Of loss and love
by OkamiMars
Summary: Hawke finds comfort in Sebastian's arms after her mother's death but there are many obstacles standing between them. Will Sebastian's vows keep them apart?
1. Chapter One

Gamlen walked out of the room, leaving Hawke staring at the fireplace. She wished she could burn away the last images of her mother... that she could unsee, could go back in time and save her from the gruesome fate that stole her life. Her whole family was gone. Dead or taken. What had she done to bring all this loss and pain to her family? All gone...

"Oh, Maker..." a pained sob threatened to break her spirit right there but she hold it back. Anger was easier to handle. It gave her something to hold on to. But even she knew that hating the mage who had done this would not bring her mother back. He was dead, as was her mother, and that was it.

Hawke got up and went upstairs, moving as if the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. Her eyes avoided her mother's room altogether. She just kept them glued to the floor on the way to her bedroom and didn't even bother to close the door behind her.

The bed welcomed her as she sat down and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her legs. She didn't move after that. It felt like time had stopped outside her door out of respect for her loss and went on flowing as usual, touching everything except the space she inhabited. She didn't hear Bodahn opening the estate's door for someone. Didn't hear the hushed voices, whispering at the entrance as if they were too scared to speak louder because they didn't want to upset the air inside the house... even Howl was silent, no welcoming barks for the visitor. Not even the footsteps she had come to know so well coming up the stairs and approaching her bedroom touched her ears. But when he entered the room, Hawke didn't need to turn around to know it was Sebastian who was walking towards her. He had always possessed a radiance that brought light even to the darkest emotions.

"Marian..." he whispered, unsure.

Hawke closed her eyes. "Is it my fault?" she asked, the pain and guilt in her voice crushing Sebastian's heart.

"It is not your fault, Marian. Not even the Maker would have been able to stop this." Sebastian's doubts disappeared and he sat down beside her, gently, not caring about anything else but being there for her, the woman who had stood by his side and supported him when no one else had.

The warm weight of his body next to hers made her look up, her eyes looking for his. She meant to say something different but the expression in his blue eyes erased those words and put his name on her lips.

"Sebastian..."

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He placed his hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her. Hawke relaxed a little and looked down again. They remained in silence, their heads full of unspoken questions and what if's both thought inappropriate to voice in that moment.

"Say something. Anything," she begged when she couldn't stand the silence anymore.

Sebastian hesitated for a second and then chose a safe answer. "Your mother is with the Maker now. She's not suffering anymore. I will put her name on the chantry's memorial wall tomorrow." His voice was soft but confident, like a mother caressing a child after a fall.

For some reason, Hawke found comfort in his words. She needed to believe that it was true, that maybe mother was with father and Bethany right then, laughing and hugging and free of pain. A small smile crawled into Hawke's face.

"Thank you, Sebastian."

She leaned on him, needing to feel someone holding her, forgetting that maybe his vows didn't even allow him that small freedom. Sebastian's body tensed. It was the first time she was that close to him and strange desires he hadn't felt in years began to stir in his heart. But he held her anyway. It would have been more wrong to not give her the comfort she needed, the support he knew she craved. He was sure the Maker would understand...

Hawke sighed when his arms surrounded her. She felt safe.

Sebastian rested his cheek on Hawke's hair and allowed himself to close his eyes. He realized he had been dreaming about doing this for a long time now and it felt more right than he had imagined. He breathed her in and knew in that moment, deep in his soul, that his heart had finally made a choice.


	2. Chapter Two

Sunrise caught Sebastian still awake on his bed. Memories of Hawke had kept him up all night; her scent, the way her hands held on to him, her steady breathing as she fell asleep in his arms.

He had left her sleeping in her bed after she had cried herself to sleep. Unwillingly, he had left her side. He couldn't stay. It wasn't right. He didn't want to expose her to needless gossip about a man spending the night in Hawke's estate. And then there was the tiny detail of him being a brother of the Chantry.

So he had left.

The short walk across the quiet night streets of Hightown back to the Chantry, the place he had called home for years, had felt like treading through quicksand. When he had finally reached his room, he used the strength he had left to take off his armor and fall on his bed. But sleep had eluded him and now the sun was up and still his mind was full of her.

"Oh, Maker, what am I doing?" he whispered to the silent walls of his room.

Everything was getting more and more complicated. And it seemed that Hawke's presence just complicated things even more. The confidence he had felt just a few hours ago was gone; doubts haunted him again and his restlessness was pulling him away from everything he had committed himself to. It had to be wrong, this feeling that hauled him towards Hawke and away from his vows, but he wasn't sure anymore.

Sebastian ran his hands over his face, up through his hair. "What am I doing?" he repeated to no one in particular and closed his eyes.

He got up from his bed a second later only to go kneel in front of the symbol of Andraste he kept in his austere room and started praying. For guidance, for forgiveness.

* * *

><p>Hawke woke up feeling cold and empty. At first, she couldn't figure out why; her mind was foggy and felt like it was desperately grasping to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, holding on to a pair of arms that were no longer there...<p>

Arms.

"Sebastian?" she called, still confused, only the echo of her voice answering her. Why had he been here? It must have been a dream. Sebastian in her bed, holding her, was just not possible... Was it?

Puzzled, she turned to lie on her back, finally opening her eyes and, in that moment, the reason for his presence the night before hit her with the force of a battering ram.

"My mother is dead," she whispered to the empty room. Hawke stared wide-eyed at the canopy bed's ceiling, trying to catch her breath. The horrors of yesterday's reality were crawling out of the corners of her mind, slow, unstoppable, scrapping away at pieces of her sanity. A scream threatened to rip its way out of her throat but Hawke covered her mouth just in time to let only a moan full of anguish escape her lips.

"Breathe, Hawke. Keep it together." Another whisper and a failed attempt to follow her own advice. She sat up to see if that helped her breathe and, at the same time, her eyes started looking for something to hold on to. But Sebastian's light was no longer there to keep away the shadows that were threatening to overwhelm her.

Her gaze locked up on the only thing she could find: her hands. She stared down at them, palms open, knowing too well what they were capable of. The magic she had always taken for granted, the power she had always felt humming under her skin felt tainted somehow now and she was suddenly scared of herself. She closed her hands into fists when they started trembling.

"No..." she groaned and sank back into her bed, attempting to get swallowed by her bed sheets.

A soft knock on her door reached her muffled ears. Someone was outside. A small flicker of hope kept the darkness at bay. Maybe Sebastian was here to keep her from drowning.

Without a second thought, she got off the bed and ran to open her bedroom's door.


	3. Chapter Three

Bathing under a shaft of sunlight, a young girl sat at the bottom step of the great stairway that led up to the chantry's entrance. She was waiting for her mother, watching people's shadows play hide-and-seek as they moved from shade to light. A cool breeze danced with the girl's hair, the sun already threatening to hide behind the high walls of the city. The child hugged herself and moved some inches, trying to follow the sun's warmth but a big shadow suddenly loomed behind her, hiding her from the sun.

She looked up and back to see who or what was blocking her sunlight and found the backlit silhouette of a man coming down the stairs in her direction. The girl stared at the man. A glimpse of a shinning white armor and a beautifully crafted bow made her gasp and wonder who he was. By the time she finally caught a clear look of his face, she was convinced he must be a prince.

He stopped right in front of her and smiled, stealing a blush from the girl's cheeks. "You must be Tessere."

The girl nodded, suddenly unable to find her voice.

"Your mother is waiting for you up there, by the chantry's door. You might want to catch up with her," Sebastian said gently.

She nodded again and started to climb the stairs but stopped and turned back to look at him. "Are you... are you a prince?" she asked quickly before she lost her nerve.

The prince was surprised by the question and dallied with his answer.

"I am a brother of the Chantry," he replied eventually. "Now, go on, young lady. You shouldn't keep your mother waiting."

"Oh." She looked a little disappointed. "Alright but you still look like a prince to me," she added before she turned around and left quickly.

Amused and taken aback at the same time, Sebastian shifted the weight of his bow as he watched the girl run up to the Chantry until he couldn't see her anymore. That young girl's question had left him wondering; who was he? The brother or the prince? Grand Cleric Elthina had asked him the same question several times now. But the answer still eluded him.

Knowing he would not solve the puzzle that haunted him yet, he looked up towards the sky and frowned when he realized how late it was. He had decided to wait all morning to give Hawke a chance to get some rest and privacy but just as he intended to leave at midday, Elthina had asked him to help with the confessions of the day and that had taken a lot more time than he expected. The last person he had taken a confession from had been the girl's mother.

He turned around and hurried over to Hawke's home, distractedly exchanging greetings with the people on the street that recognized him. A sudden impulse to get there fast had taken hold of him; he wanted to see if she was doing alright, if she needed anything... Needed him.

He snorted and shook his head at the thought. Needed him. How presumptuous on his part.

A distant bark shook him out of his reverie, made him raise his eyes; Hawke's estate was already towering over him. He must have been standing there for some minutes now.

"Alright, Sebastian, quit dawdling and focus," he said under his breath, took a deep breath. When he felt ready, he crossed the short corridor to the estate's entrance and raised his fist to knock on the door but the door opened before he could touch it, leaving his hand floating in midair right in front of Anders's surprised face.

"Oh." Sebastian lowered his arm and acknowledged the mage's presence with a nod. "Anders."

Anders rearranged his face into a neutral expression. "Sebastian," he reciprocated with a sarcastic edge to his voice. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Are you coming on official business to give condolences to Hawke in behalf of the Chantry?" A sneer formed in his mouth.

"No, I come as a friend to give comfort to a friend in this trying time for her, as I assume you have." Sebastian decided to ignore the knives hiding between Anders's words. It wasn't worth it. He already knew Anders wasn't particularly fond of him and the feeling was mutual.

Feeling scolded, Anders opened his mouth to reply but changed his mind before any sound came out of it. Instead, he frowned and turned his head back to look inside the house; he had remembered Hawke's sad eyes. A silent sigh made his torso rise up and down.

"Yes. I just wanted to see how Hawke was doing," the mage claimed as he looked back at Sebastian.

"I assume she is not doing all that well?" Sebastian asked when he saw how worried Anders suddenly looked.

"Well... you know how she is; always trying to lighten even the heaviest mood with her frequently inappropriate wit."

Sebastian smiled in spite of himself. He could picture Hawke hiding her broken heart behind that crooked smile of hers.

"Yes, that sounds like her."

Both men exchanged a look of rare camaraderie between them, seeming to share the same image in their minds of a smirking Hawke, fighting back the darkness with sharp wit and sarcasm as her weapons. But the moment ended as soon as they recognized in each other's eyes the same emotion brimming for the same woman.

Anders's expression turned to stone.

"Wow. Aren't you supposed to have chastity vows, married to the Maker's bride and all that rubbish?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Sebastian demanded.

"You want her, don't you? I knew you were just a phony. All that I'm-so-holy-and-pure-look-at-me-shine act, all a damn sham."

A flash of anger shone in Sebastian's eyes.

"You are crossing the line, Anders. I cannot believe you would do this. And right on her doorstep. Do you think it proper to behave like a spoiled child when the last thing Hawke needs right now are more problems? She just lost her mother, for Andraste's sake."

Anders felt his whole body tense, his right hand curled into a fist.

"Go ahead and hit me if it's going to make you feel better," Sebastian crossed his arms and waited, subtly bracing himself for the impact just in case. He stared at the blonde mage's nostrils flare and, for a second, he thought he was going to actually take a swing at him.

But instead, Anders relaxed and stretched his fingers.

"You would love that, don't you?" he glared at Sebastian, wishing he had the power of making someone burst into flames with his mind.

"No, I would certainly not love that, Anders."

An exasperated grunt left Anders's lips. "I need to get going." He shoved Sebastian out of the way with his left shoulder before the prince could say anything else and stormed off.

Sebastian readjusted his armor as he watched Anders's robes disappear around the corner. He scowled and entered Hawke's home with a bad feeling clinging to his gut.

He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.


	4. Chapter Four

A sad silence wrapped Sebastian like a cloak as soon as he closed the door behind him. It felt somewhat different from the atmosphere that had covered the house the night before but it still made him want to whisper and move carefully so as not to disturb it.

When his ears got used to the lack of sound, they started picking up little things coming from the main hall: the fire crackling in the fireplace, footsteps in the distance, soft pads on the carpet. As he crossed the foyer, he slowly let his awkward encounter with Anders slip from his mind to make room for whatever was to come.

Hawke's mabari appeared on the threshold of the great hall and padded towards him, greeting him with a silent lick of hand. Sebastian knelt on one knee and scratched the war dog's head.

"Hello, Howl," he whispered. "No welcoming barks today, huh?"

The dog whined.

"I know," he petted him more. "Do you think I could see your master?"

Howl furiously wagged his tail and grabbed Sebastian's wrist, tugging at it.

"I will take that as a yes," the prince chuckled. He stood up and let Howl half-drag him to the main hall.

The fireplace was shedding a warm light over the empty room. Neither Bodahn nor his son, Sandal, were in their usual spots. Where was everyone?

"Do you know where Bodahn is?"

The dog barked once, loudly, invoking Bodahn out of a door that Sebastian assumed led to the kitchen, seeing as the dwarf was carrying a tray with some food on it.

"Oh! Welcome, Messere Vael," Bodahn greeted him in hushed tones. "I am sorry. Have you been waiting long? I was putting together something quick for Mistress Hawke to eat."

"Good evening, Bodahn. No, I just got here."

"You are here to see her, I presume?"

"Yes, I am. If she's..."

Howl barked and disappeared through the door Bodahn has just come out of, probably on a quest to find some food for himself.

"...not too busy," finished Sebastian, following the mabari with his eyes, amused.

"No, not at all, messere. She gave me specific instructions to let you in immediately if you showed up."

His attention snapped back to the dwarf. "She did?" Sebastian was surprised at the hopeful leap his heart had taken when he heard that; the feeling wasn't familiar to him.

"Indeed. I thought maybe she would like to get some rest after parting with Master Anders but she looked restless and went directly to the library after giving me those instructions." Bodahn didn't seem particularly in a hurry to stop talking just yet.

"Yes. Anders. I bumped into him on my way in."

"Oh, yes! Master Anders came by to see her. It was nice of him to come. What happened to Mistress Amell was a horrible thing. So tragic," Bodahn commented ruefully. "I am glad Mistress Hawke is blessed with so many friends that care about her. She needs them more than ever."

"It is a good thing she has someone as loyal as you, Bodahn," Sebastian smiled gently at him.

Bodahn blushed. "Oh, messere, you are too kind."

"I am only speaking the truth. Now, do you think I could see her?"

"Of course! My apologies for keeping you here. By all means, follow me. She will be very happy to see you. She is probably waiting for you as we speak."

"I could take that to her for you if you want."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of bothering you with this, messere."

"It's no bother. I'll do it gladly." Sebastian reached out for the tray, waiting for Bodhan's reply.

"Alright, messere. Please make sure she eats. She needs her strength."

"Thank you, Bodahn, I will," Sebastian gracefully leaned his head, the tray now in his possession, and walked over to where the dwarf had directed him.

"Hawke?"

"I'm up here."

Sebastian left the tray on the desk next to the stairs and followed her voice up to the upper floor of the library. He found her placing a small leather book back into one of the bookcases.

"How are.."

"You know it's rude to sneak out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye? Makes the person feel like a one-night stand," Hawke interrupted him, her eyes and fingers wandering over the spines of the numerous books she owned.

His mind froze with the unexpected retort but it melted when the blood rushed to his face. "Hawke, I... that is not..." his tongue stumbled over the words as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked anywhere except at her. "What I mean to say is, that was not my intention at all. I just wanted to let you get some rest and..." He stopped when he noticed Hawke looking at him with a crooked smile on her face.

"You are kidding."

Her smile widened. "You look so cute when you blush."

He blushed harder but a line of worry creased his brow; her amused smirk wasn't reaching her eyes.

"How are you, Hawke?" he insisted, the concern in his voice so obvious that Hawke's smile hesitated. She stared at him while she considered the possibility of opening her heart to him but she was afraid of what she would find there; she had stumbled into denial a couple of hours ago and wasn't ready to untangle herself from it.

"Oh, I'm great. Never been better! Just bring me a cask full of ale and my day will be complete." Even she could hear how false her cheerful tone sounded.

He sighed. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Hawke moved around him and walked downstairs, Sebastian trailing after her to the desk nestled in a corner between two huge bookcases.

"Pretend you are fine. I know you are hurting," he answered to Hawke's back, who had started sorting through some notes and letters, looking busy.

"Sebastian, really, you worry too much." She was frowning, knowing he couldn't see her face. Talking to Anders had made it so easy to slip into her usual self and make light of the situation but Sebastian was starting to irritate her. What was it about him that was tugging at the edges of the mask she was wearing, desperately trying to avoid falling apart?

"Your mother's funeral is tomorrow. Burying it all inside and act like you are okay is not healthy."

Ugh, why couldn't he just stop? "Seriously, Sebastian, I'm trying to read here. I have a million things to do and I have no time to be playing the confession game, okay? Now, stop trying to make cry," she said as she pretended to read some old letter that had been on the desk.

"Hawke, stop it." He could see how hard she was trying to appear relaxed but the line of her shoulders was tense as a bowstring. The prince moved closer and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't, Sebastian..." Her hands stopped moving and were placed on the desk with a frustrated sigh, along with the letters they had been holding.

"No. You can jest all you want but I can see how much effort you're putting into it. You can't even look at me while you try to reroute our conversation."

Hawke crushed the notes that were under her hands, her head lowered. Something had finally snapped inside of her. "Is this what you want?" It was only a whisper but there was an edge in her voice that put Sebastian on guard. The weight of his hand disappeared from her shoulder; he had instinctively stepped back.

"Hawke..."

"No! Tell me!" She turned around with her fists full of crumbled paper, glaring at him with a sudden rage that blasted its way through her defenses like a waking dragon. "Is this what you want me to do? Get mad? Scream? Burn Kirkwall to the ground?" The letters and notes started to catch fire, fueling the monster she felt coursing in her veins.

"Hawke, calm down." She saw Sebastian's eyes open wide, a flicker of fear flashing in them, and couldn't stop a smile of perverse satisfaction from painting her face.

"Hawke!"

She ignored him and roared as she moved forward, "Or maybe set Aveline on fire because it was her job to stop the man that murdered my mother and she failed miserably?" Hawke's eyes reflected the flames that now burned brighter in her upraised hands; all the despair that had been festering inside her chest unleashed. She knew she should stop but it felt so good to be angry, to feel this power. It made her feel less lost and broken somehow.

Sebastian frowned. He had managed to recognize the fierce pain hidden behind her rage and it had touched an echo made of the same thing still living in his heart. So he just stood there, as rooted as a pillar that waits patiently for the storm to pass, holding her gaze with his steady blue eyes, a compassion as deep as the ocean flowing out of them.

Hawke sensed the change in him, strong enough to make her waver. "Stop looking at me like that," she muttered, spellbound by his gaze. His eyes seemed to douse her burning soul and put out the fire that was consuming her. The cold left in its stead made her body start shaking.

"You should be afraid..." A tear escaped her eyelid and went running down her cheek.

"Oh, Marian..." Sebastian reached for her, carefully. "You do scare me. You do. But for a whole different reason." His voice was soft as he raised his hand and gently wiped the wetness from her face. "This? This I get. I know how it feels. I know how the anger and thirst for justice eats you inside and you hold on to it because the other option, feeling the void, the despair, is unbearable."

His words disarmed her completely and she broke down. He caught her before she touched the ground and contained her while she cried her sorrow out and gasped for the air that her mother's presence had taken with her.

"Time will heal your wound, I promise," he whispered as he rocked her in his arms.

An hour or a century later, the night found Hawke still on the floor in Sebastian's arms, two bodies huddled against the wall besides the stairs. They hadn't said a word since Hawke's final sob; their breathing and the crackling logs in the fireplace were the only sounds inside the library.

She was enjoying the strangely comforting emptiness that remained after her catharsis; no feelings or thoughts, nothing but the sensation of feeling protected like she hadn't felt in a very long time. But Sebastian was far away from there, submerged in his own personal hell where his desires and his vows were still raging a war that would decide his fate.

When Hawke finally spoke, it was with a husky voice, her words pulling Sebastian out of his troubled mind, "I am really sorry you had to see me like this. Promise me you won't tell anyone; it would ruin my reputation and we can't have that. I wouldn't be able to get jobs in this town anymore."

After clearing the last remnants of his inner battle, he looked down at her with a smile. "Your mother walks with the Maker now but it is no shame for those left behind to mourn. Crying over someone you just lost doesn't make you weak; it just proves you are strong enough to love."

Hawke snorted and wiped away one last stray tear. "Varric is right: you do make people's teeth ache sometimes."

She felt his chest moving with a barely audible chuckle.

"Well, at least one good thing is coming out of all of this," she continued.

"What?"

"This is the second time in less than 24 hours that you are holding me in your arms."

Sebastian heard the smirk on her lips and couldn't help but laugh. "Only you would make jokes out of something like this."

She laughed softly, snuggling against him even more. "It's not really a joke, you know."

In that moment, he became too conscious of the way her body was nested between his arms and legs, suddenly feeling every inch where her weight was pressed against him. He cleared his throat, panicking a little when a fluttering sensation began tickling his lower stomach. "Well," he started to let go of her, "maybe we should..."

"Don't you dare, Vael. You don't want me to start throwing sparks all over the place again, do you?" She looked up at him, glaring playfully.

He smiled at her, nervous, in a gesture that was now becoming too familiar when she was around him. "That would not be good, no. But maybe we should get off the floor?"

"Hmm, I guess we should. I can't feel my back side anymore," Hawke sighed and let Sebastian help her up.

"You should eat something, Hawke," he pressed his hand on her back and gently guided her to the desk, where the food got stared down by an unconvinced Hawke. Sebastian grabbed a piece of bread and gave it to her. "Eat."

"Oh, alright." She grabbed it and took a bite, forcing herself to chew. She was about to say something with her mouth full when a knock on the door interrupted her.

"Come in."

Bodahn's head appeared on the door frame. "Mistress Hawke? I'm sorry to interrupt but a letter has arrived for you. The guard-captain herself dropped it and said you should read it as soon as possible."

Hawke swallowed the bread and took the letter from the dwarf. "Thank you, Bodahn."

She opened it and started reading as the door closed behind her.

"What is it?" Sebastian asked when Hawke sighed tiredly.

"Nothing; it's from Aveline. About my mother's funeral."

"Is something wrong?"

"Besides the fact that it's my mother's funeral?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "No. Aveline is just letting me know that everything's ready for tomorrow but I guess you kind of knew that already. She is helping me with the non-religious arrangements."

"I know. She went to see Elthina this morning."

"Well, I guess everything's settled then." Hawke hesitated. "Except..."

"Yes?"

"Could you do something for me?"

"Anything, Hawke."

"Could you say some words tomorrow? I know Grand Cleric Elthina will officiate the rite but it would mean a lot to me if you said some words for my mother. Something simple, you don't have to recite the entire Chant of Light or anything."

He placed his hand above his heart and inclined his head, touched by her request. "Of course, it will be an honor."

Hawke moved her own hand and put it over his, her skin grazing his fingers. His reply was a smile that her lips reflected like a mirror.

"Thank you, Sebastian. For everything."

Sebastian didn't say anything but he removed his hand only to have it pressed over her own again. Maybe she would be able to burn the doubts that lingered in there like dark clouds.

She realized then as they stared into each other's eyes how much of a hold he had over her heart already. The thought twisted her stomach with fear: what if she lost him too? Either to death or to his doubts, to the Chantry or something else entirely, their path was so full of obstacles... Would she be able to handle losing someone else? The truth was she wasn't sure. She felt her heart hardening, bracing itself against a lethal blow it knew she wouldn't be able to bear.


	5. Chapter Five

A cloudless blue sky arched over Hightown, the sunlight raining relentlessly on its citizens. It was turning out to be the hottest day of the year. Or at least it seemed like that to Hawke, who kept looking up to glare at the sun. She felt offended by its bright light and the unyielding press of its heat which caused drops of sweat to roll down her skin. Her clothes were slowly suffocating her. How could the day be so damn beautiful on her mother's funeral? Maker's breath, it should be raining! Thunder and lightning and heavy rain! Something, anything to show that the world gave a damn for all she had lost.

"Are you okay, Hawke?" Varric's voice ripped her eyes apart from the sky. He was standing next to her, a worried look on his face. "You look like you're about to pass out."

She looked down at him, tugging at the collar of her dress a little to let some air in.

"I'm great, Varric. What could possibly be bothering me on such a lovely day?"

He shook his head, knowing exactly what Hawke needed. "Want to go get some drinks at the Hanged Man after this is over?"

A small grateful smile touched her lips. "What would I do without you, my hairy friend?"

He smiled back. "Crash and burn, Hawke. Crash and burn."

Finally returning her attention to the rite occurring in front of her, she appreciated the simplicity of it. Aveline and Sebastian had listened to her request for a modest ceremony and she could see the strings they had pulled to achieve it in every detail of the arrangements.

They were in the estate's inner courtyard, away from curious eyes; they had done nothing to change it for the funeral except hang up the tapestry with the symbol of Andraste on the opposite wall. The funeral pyre rested in the center, ready for the flames. Sebastian was assisting Elthina, walking ceremoniously around the pyre with an ornate incense burner in his hands while the Grand Cleric spoke some achingly familiar words from what Hawke assumed was the Chant of Light.

"Ashes we were and ashes we become. Maker, give this woman a place at your side. Let us take comfort in the peace she has found in eternity..." The same words Wesley had spoken for Bethany...

Hawke stopped paying attention to Elthina; she didn't want to listen anymore and wished she could just get out of there.

But instead of running away, Hawke let her eyes explore the rest of the scene and the people surrounding her. There was Isabela, looking rather uncomfortable with the ceremony, but there for her anyway. Merrill was nearby and kept stealing glances at Hawke, worried about her, surely. Next to the elven mage was Anders, frowning at the grand cleric's words. Hawke sighed and wished, not for the first time, that she could find a way to rip Justice out of his head.

Aveline was also there, strong and unmovable as a rock as always. Hawke quickly looked away when she felt the unfamiliar surge of anger rise up in her. Now was not the time for that. Her right hand quickly buried itself in the comforting warmth of her dog's fur, who was sitting so close to her she could feel his huge body radiating heat.

To their right, Uncle Gamlen stood completely still, his eyes red-rimmed and wide with shock. In spite of all the differences and misunderstandings between him and her mother, what Hawke recognized in that face, far beyond the obvious grief, was the love her uncle had always felt for his sister. It reminded her of her relationship with Carver; her stubborn little brother... her absent brother.

She stared at the empty place besides Gamlen where Carver should have been and a dull pain crushed her chest. He hadn't come. What a surprise. Still, she had hoped... She shook her head; it didn't matter anymore.

Her eyes returned to the funeral pyre with her mother's corpse resting on it, wrapped completely in a white cotton sheet, the softest she could find. The sight of all that was left of the woman who had given her life chilled her as a terrible thought crept into her mind; she would never see her mother's smile again. Suddenly, Hawke felt as if the impossibly bright sun had vanished and there was no warmth left in the world; no hope, nothing. It was such an alien feeling for her. All her life, she had always kept going, no matter what: moving from place to place to hide from the templars, taking charge of her family after her father had died, Bethany's death at the hands of an ogre, surviving the Blight and bringing mother and Carver to Kirkwall, losing Carver to the templars... There had always been someone to keep living for; there had always been her family. With her mother gone, it felt like there was nothing worth left to fight for.

Only those who knew her very well could recognize the effort it took Hawke to be standing there. All traces of humor or wit had vanished from the lines of her face. She could have been made of stone, even the slave statues that plagued the Gallows showed more emotion than she did. But her eyes, unusually dark, were staring ahead with an intensity that could have frozen the very bones of the earth.

She only blinked when she heard Sebastian's voice pierce its way through the fog her mind had raised to protect itself. Her eyes slowly focused on the face of the man that was now talking about her mother as if he had known her for a long time. He was looking at her mother as he spoke, his eyes unbearably soft; Hawke wondered how he could describe her so accurately and with such... compassion.

Lost in thought, Hawke didn't notice that his eyes had drifted to her, the soft caress of his gaze now touched hers. He closed the circle of his words, talking directly to her,

_Though all before me is shadow,_

_Yet shall the Maker be my guide._

_I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads_

_of the Beyond_

_For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light_

_And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost._

His voice struck her very bones as if they were the strings of an ancient, long-forgotten instrument coming to life, shattering the darkness with its sound. She had never truly had a lot of faith or taken the Chantry very seriously but something in the words he had spoken, she could feel a hidden power in those words... But no, not in the words. With tears in her eyes she couldn't even feel, Hawke realized the power was in the man that had brought them to life with his voice. Spellbound, she forgot for a moment where she was.

Her mind traveled back to a day not unlike this day; with the same bright sun but a different soil under her feet; Fereldan soil. She was only a child at the time, walking across a field with her father. His deep voice resonated with secrets about magic, explaining what was happening to her, explaining how she needed to control her power before she set another barn on fire. She remembered it like it was yesterday; how, after that day, she had craved to know the elements, wind and fire and earth and lightning, not because she wanted power, but because she was fascinated by them. And now there was something else, someone, that had stirred that same fascination in her, waking up the same hunger to know it intimately she had felt as a girl...

"Hawke?"

She blinked and saw the source of her new-found fascination standing right in front of her, the whisper of her name had just left his lips. He was holding a lighted torch in his left hand.

"It's time," Sebastian said softly.

It took her a few seconds to realize what he meant.

"Oh... Right." She took the torch from his hand and he moved respectfully out of her way to let her pass, though his eyes never left her. Taking a deep breath, she advanced towards the stark, bleak pyre, feeling every single pair of eyes present following her.

She stopped and stared at her mother, hesitating when memories of their life together started flooding her mind until they forced her to shut her eyes to keep them from spilling out and drowning her world. Enough, she thought, trembling. No more. Another deep breath and Hawke opened her eyes; back in control, she looked down at her mother's face for the last time.

"Goodbye, mother," she whispered at last, gently covering the face with the white mantle, and then allowed the torch to kiss the wood, so that fire flared into life within the pyre, surrounding it all until the flames licked every flammable thing they could find. Only when the heat grew too much to bear did she step back and watch as the fire consumed what once had been her mother. She couldn't help but wonder if Sebastian was right and Leandra Hawke was now walking with the Maker, all pain and suffering left behind. Her eyes wandered to Sebastian's profile and she felt a painful tug in her heart.

She asked herself how she could still feel something when everything seemed to have stopped mattering, when she had felt dead inside just moments ago. But a longing was spreading inside of her, reaching out with invisible tendrils that crossed the air which separated them, a longing for the man who was a prince and servant of the Maker at the same time, who was a friend but was beginning to be something more. She knew then that the same longing had been growing steadily within her over the last few months. Hawke embraced the ache as the flames embraced wood and flesh and bone, knowing she wasn't dead yet, not dead enough to have no desires anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, it meant there was still hope.


	6. Chapter Six

"Child, something is bothering you," Elthina said as soon as Sebastian closed the Chantry's massive doors behind them. Her clear eyes were looking at him with concern.

Sebastian closed his eyes, his hands still resting on the carved door. Elthina knew. Of course she knew.

"Is it that obvious, Your Grace?" he asked when he finally faced the grand cleric.

Her smile was gentle when she replied, "Sebastian, I've known you for a very long time; do not think I haven't noticed how troubled your heart has been lately."

He lowered his head. "You see much..."

Hawke's expression when he had told her he needed to accompany Elthina back to the Chantry came back to haunt him. She had seemed strangely reluctant to part from his company, and even though she hadn't attempted to stop him with words, the way she had last looked at him had made the walk to the Chantry feel unreal, for his thoughts had strayed from his mind, following Hawke as a ship would follow the blaze coming from a lighthouse in the middle of a storm...

"I don't mean to pry but it pains my heart to see you like this. Talk to me; maybe I can help you."

Sebastian doubted. Elthina waited. He almost opened his mouth to let his heart fall out of it but something stopped him; maybe the way the grand cleric's mouth seemed a little too tight, or how her inquisitive gaze seemed to already know what he was about to say. Or maybe it was the shadow in his own heart that held him back, coiled around its secrets to keep them safe.

"You honor me, Your Grace," he said with a slight bow of head and a vein of honesty running through his words, "but I can't, not yet. Not now. I promised Hawke I would join her."

Elthina frowned. "Hawke..." she repeated her name, a hidden meaning behind her voice, unfathomable to Sebastian's ears. "Go on, then, but Sebastian..."

"Yes?"

"If you ever need to talk, I will be here to listen."

Sebastian took Elthina's hand and kissed it, hoping she hadn't noticed him cringe with guilt.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

He didn't give her time to say anything else for he turned around and took off quickly, leaving the Chantry behind. He walked fast toward Lowtown, taking every shortcut he knew. He wasn't sure if he was trying to reach Hawke as fast as possible or if he was running away from the unspoken questions in Elthina's eyes, from the silent ones in his own heart. He couldn't think about them now, not with a bigger question nagging at his mind: he needed to find out what had been that new light shining through Hawke's eyes when she had looked at him after the funeral had ended.

Sebastian soon found himself overpowered by the distinctive smell that oozed from the Hanged Man's interior. Even after having visited it quite a few times now, he still wasn't used to it; it reminded him of the wild years of his youth.

Unsettled, his eyes combed the establishment, looking for Hawke.

Along with the smell, the noise and movement inside the unusually packed tavern was an assault on the senses: voices talking or shouting all over the place, including bad singing somewhere in a corner, waitresses dodging long hands while balancing trays full of pints, drunkards zigzagging through the maze of tables and chairs.

He finally found Hawke's raven hair surfing the thick crowd towards the farthest side of the bar from where he was standing; he wondered at the relief he felt at the sight of her.

Before he could take a step in her direction, a heavy hand fell on his upper arm.

"There you are, choir boy! You sure took your precious time getting here."

Hawke's face slipped from the hold of Sebastian's eyes and sank back into the crowd, as he turned around to face a smirking Varric, who was now retreating his arm.

"Hello, Varric. I didn't see you coming," he said, a little dazed.

"What, now you are making jokes at the expense of my height? I would never thought you'd be capable of such a low move," Varric replied, serious.

Sebastian looked alarmed. "What? No, Varric, that's not what I..."

Varric burst out laughing. "I'm just shitting you. Don't fret. Come on over to our table." The dwarf departed, still chuckling. Sebastian shook his head and followed him with an amused smile on his face; Varric's sense of humor was a peculiar one.

Their table was located at the back of the tavern, nestled in a corner where they could watch the rest of the place. It was empty except for Isabela, who was drumming her fingers against the wood.

"Tired of waiting for your drink, Rivani?" Varric asked her as he sat down.

"Understatement. The service is so slow tonight I think I can hear the sound of my body aging with every second that passes."

Varric laughed and Isabela said, "Hey, don't laugh! I swear I found a new gray hair like a minute ago... Shush, don't say anything," she shut Varric up before he could blurt out a witty comment and turned her attention to Sebastian.

"Hello, Sebastian. Nice of you to join us down here in the underworld," she winked at him as he settled down next to Varric.

The prince returned the welcome, distracted, and then asked, "Where are the others?"

"Well," Varric said, "Hawke is over there at the bar; she offered to get the drinks because all the waitresses seem to have vanished. Blondie and Daisy had to take a detour on our way here because some templars were sniffing around near Lowtown's market. I'll expect they'll be here anytime soon. Oh, and Aveline had some business with the city guards that, apparently, was too important to wait."

"Alright..." Sebastian's gaze had already wandered back to where he had last seen Hawke. He vaguely noticed Isabela getting up and leaving them; something about seeing Merrill and Anders enter the Hanged Man. He certainly didn't notice Varric's thoughtful stare on him while he looked for Hawke.

The crowd that had been hiding her had thinned enough for Sebastian to find her quicker this time. She was leaning on the bar, engaged in a conversation with the bartender. All he could see was her back; she was already out of her funeral dress and was wearing the well-conserved light armor her father had worn during his mercenary days; he had never noticed before how surprisingly well it fitted her...

Sebastian quickly shook his head of the unwelcome thoughts and wished instead he could see her eyes, but something kept him glued to the chair. He was busy trying to juggle with the rush of emotions that was invading him as he admired Hawke from afar... Dear Andraste, what was he supposed to do? Hawke had told him once to follow his heart. Wise advice, except he didn't know which one of the voices inside of him belonged to his heart; he had to choose between what he desired and what he believed was right, but the problem was he wasn't sure what was right anymore.

"Oh, come on, choir boy, you're turning into another brooder. If you want Hawke, you should go for it." Varric's annoyed voice broke Sebastian's reverie.

"Uh... sorry, what?" His words stumbled out of his mouth.

"You have been staring at her for the last half hour with a lost-puppy expression on your face. It's so obvious; I'm amazed Hawke hasn't turned around to see who is trying to drill a hole in her back."

Sebastian blushed. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just... making sure nothing happens to her," he said lamely.

Varric snorted. "Well, if you're not quick, Anders is going to happen." He pointed with his chin in Hawke's direction.

They both turned in time to see Anders get near Hawke while she talked with the bartender and place a hand gently on her shoulder. Hawke looked up at him and smiled. Sebastian frowned; it wasn't his place to question or judge what Hawke did but Anders was a dangerous man and could potentially hurt her. He couldn't stand the thought.

He surprised Varric and himself by making a sudden movement that took him right next to Hawke.

"Do you need help with the drinks?" he asked, his impulses conquering his common sense.

"Sebastian," Hawke said, her pupils growing wide when she saw him.

Sebastian ignored the scowl Anders threw at him and he looked directly at Hawke; there it was again, that look inside the ocean that were Hawke's eyes. They stared at each other in silence, each trying to unravel a mystery that lived in the gaze of the other.

"Ahem," Anders cleared his throat, trying to regain Hawke's attention. "The drinks are ready."

Hawke moved her hand and gently placed it on Anders's forearm, never moving her eyes away from Sebastian. "Could you take those two mugs to the table? We'll take the rest," she said, squeezing his arm and then letting it go.

Anders watched her hand move away from him, his warm eyes desperately groping at the inevitable distance that grew between her fingers and the skin they had just set on fire. Raising his eyes, he stared for a moment longer at Hawke and Sebastian and his face crumbled into pieces.

With shaking hands, he took the two mugs brimming with ale Hawke had asked him to carry and walked away.

Anders left The Hanged Man early that night. Tired, he said he was. Hawke watched him walk away, thoughtful, but the company reclaimed her attention almost right away.

They stuck together until the night stretched itself one last time before receding to give way to the dawn.

* * *

><p>"Do you need me to walk you home, Hawke? You are kind of drunk." Varric asked her soon after Merill and Isabela had departed.<p>

"Look who's talking! You shouldn't even be able to stand up straight."

He snorted. "Please, Hawke, I'm a dwarf. I could drink all of you under the table and still be sharp enough to shoot an arrow straight through the eye of a needle."

She laughed. "Ah, and that is why I like you, my friend: your humility."

"And my unbelievably good looks, don't forget that."

"Oh, no, how could I ever forget about that?" Hawke answered with a smirk. She noticed Varric's eyes kept going to where Sebastian was standing by the tavern's door and added, "Something on your mind?"

"Well, since you asked... what's going on with you and choir boy over there?"

Her only answer was a cryptic smile.

"Oh, come on, Hawke! You need to tell me this stuff so I can properly exaggerate it on my stories."

"You do that regardless."

"True," he chuckled, "but they always turn out better when you do tell me, so..."

"Oh, look at the time! I really have to go," she said, faking a huge yawn.

"Alright, alright, but don't think you are free of this. I'm only letting you go because I can see your saint is getting restless. I'll talk to you later."

She raised an eyebrow. "Talk or interrogate?"

Varric smirked. "I wasn't aware there was a difference."

She rolled her eyes and escaped before he could start asking questions right there and caught up with Sebastian, who was already waiting for her outside the tavern.

* * *

><p>The sky was a mantle of deep dark blue with stars fading in the horizon. The birds could feel the dawn coming in their bones and sang in a strident chorus to welcome it as Hawke and Sebastian walked across the city. Their shoulders grazed from time to time, the rhythm of their steps hardly echoing in the empty streets.<p>

He walked at her side, watching the streets, sometimes watching her. His eyes could pick out the soft lines of her profile even in the semidarkness, his mind easily filling in the spaces that were hidden by the shadows; she seemed to be enjoying the airy sensation the alcohol had given her; she didn't drink too much, just the right amount: enough to feel lighter, just enough to forget.

As he gazed at her, Sebastian realized it was getting harder and harder for him to control the stream of his thoughts whenever she was around and he knew that it was only a matter of time before his will cracked. He was starting to miss the peace and purpose the Chantry had given him before he had chosen to abandon everything for justice... for revenge.

He stopped looking at her when she started humming to herself; a soft, melodious lullaby that caressed his ears and heart no matter how hard he tried to resist it.

Questions that had been buzzing at the back of his mind all night long stung him at last: what was he doing? How far down this path he would go before it inevitably led him to the breaking of all the vows he had pledged his life to?

A disgruntled sigh interrupted Hawke's carefree walk and made her look at him from the corner of her eye; she didn't like what she saw: it looked as if his thoughts were carving a creased path across his forehead. Worry started to burst through the bubble of carelessness she was wrapped up in, like a maddening itch she just couldn't scratch away. His eyes caught hers watching him and scared them off.

It didn't take them long to reach Hawke's home after that.

"Is something wrong? You are going to get all wrinkly with all that frowning..." Hawke said, breaking the silence that had walked with them all the way from the tavern.

Sebastian avoided her stare and rubbed the back of his neck; he didn't want to lie to her.

"I'm... tired; I'm not used to this kind of lifestyle anymore." At least that one was true.

She almost jested with him but her reply got lost inside her foggy brain; she was starting to regret drinking that last pint.

Hawke rubbed her eyes with one hand. "Yeah, I'm tired too..."

"I should go, let you rest," he said, already taking a step back, but she wasn't ready to let him go yet; not without trying to get rid of the seriousness that had taken hold of him.

"What? No hugs unless I'm having an emotional breakdown?" she asked, with open arms and a charming smile.

She managed to make Sebastian chuckle. Success. Except he still looked unsure and didn't move.

"You are not going to make me beg, are you?" she added, raising an eyebrow.

He just looked at her and said, "No, of course not."

Taking a step forward, he put his arms around her and held her close to him.

She set free a contented sigh. "Thank you for staying with me..." she breathed in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"It was my pleasure, Marian," his voice came out sounding huskier than he intended; he frowned but he couldn't help himself and hugged her tighter.

Something happened within Hawke right then; the alcohol playing in her veins, her exhaustion, her body pressed against his, her own desire, they all conspired against her and an impulse took hold of her. She moved her head slowly, her mouth searching, searching, until it found the corner of his mouth.

He drew his face back instantly.

"What are you..." He stopped mid-sentence, his attention drawn to Hawke's teeth biting her lower lip. Her lips parted as he watched them; the space that suddenly appeared between them like an invitation made him look up at her with a wild question in his eyes. All he could see in her gaze was a yes.

He suddenly felt his own blood rushing to his ears, beating like a warning with the force of a thousand drums.

He whispered, "Hawke..."

"Sebastian..."

"You are drunk."

"I know."

"I can't."

She stared at him, at his lips, his eyes again. Hawke seemed to dwindle like a candle just before it burns out. "Yes," her arms and eyes slowly slid away from him, "Of course."

His throat closed, choking on a terrible, silent moan that sprung from the depths of his soul. He placed his fingers under her chin and raised her head.

"Don't look away," he pleaded.

"Just go, Sebastian," she said quietly, knowing she would feel embarrassed when the effects of the alcohol passed, too tired to care either way. The only thing she wanted now was her bed and the merciful oblivion sleep promised.

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you going to be alright?" he said, still searching for her eyes.

"Sure!" She smiled cheerfully.

"Please..."

Hawke looked at him for a moment and saw his concern shining in his eyes. Damn him. She could feel the pressure of his hands on her body, the cold night breeze skimming over her skin and entering her body as she breathed it in, as she breathed him in, his face still so close to hers. A real smile touched her lips this time.

"I will be," she answered and meant it. "You can leave."

Sebastian studied her expression and finally nodded, "Yes... alright." He let his arms fall back to his sides. "I will see you soon."

They stared at each other for a moment longer, his eyes lingering, trying hard to disentangle himself from the root of his desires.

The first rays of the new day trickled down the city walls.

He turned and left her then, wearing the light of the rising sun like a cloak.


	7. Chapter Seven

The sisters of the Chantry were just beginning to light the incense burners hanging from the bronze statues that flanked the chantry's entry hallway when Sebastian stormed into the building, looking as if the blight itself was biting at his heels. He ignored the gasps and alarmed expressions he left at his wake and went straight up the stairs that led to the dormitories, taking two steps at a time. Once inside his room, he locked himself in and rested his forehead against the door, his hand still wrapped around the handle, gripping it so tight his knuckles were turning white.

It was dark in there, for the sun still hadn't breached the shadows with its blazing arms. But Sebastian didn't bother to light a candle; he knew no light would be able to scatter the darkness and chaos that had nested inside of him. There was nowhere to run.

He freed the door from his grasp and paced around the room, restless, until his back searched for a wall it could use for support, for a thought and a memory had suddenly found their way across his chaotic mind: How easily that demon that had perverted Lady Harimann's desires would be able to crawl into his soul and corrupt him now...

Sebastian let his body slide down to the floor as the realization hit him and a prayer left his lips, his voice whispering to the emptiness around him, trying to find a way out of the dark, trying to find a way back into the Maker's light. He leaned forward, on his knees, then his hands, stopped only when his forehead touched the floor, and kept praying, weaving all his distress and confusion into his plea.

Eventually, his murmuring died down as his exhaustion caught up with him, slowly enfolding each and every limb, until it turned everything black, and there was no more thinking.

But he found no comfort or rest in the arms of slumber, for even there a pair of fiery blue eyes rose up from the depths to greet him...

* * *

><p>He opened his eyes again hours later, trying to remember what had woken him up. He was lying on the cold stone floor, several parts of his body hurting from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in. The light of the evening sun was burning his back and making him sweat. Groaning, he raised himself up until he was sitting down, and then stroked the side of his face that had been in direct contact with the floor.<p>

Someone knocked on his door again and he realized that was the sound that had made him open his eyes.

"Brother Vael?"

A familiar voice reached his ears but, still lethargic, he couldn't put a face to it. Probably one of the sisters of the Chantry.

"Yes?" he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"A letter arrived for you just now. The messenger said it was urgent."

"Just a minute..." He ran his hand down his face and, grunting, finally stood up with difficulty.

There was a pause outside and then, "...I'll just leave it here for you."

An envelope slid under the door and bumped into his boot. He heard steps walking away from his room as he leaned down to pick it up, feeling somewhat ashamed.

Urgent or not, he needed to shake off the grogginess first so he left the letter on his desk without taking a second look at it and went to look for fresh water. Upon returning, he took off his armor and shirt, and, dipping his hands on the basin, splashed the cold water on his face and hair, waking up completely.

Grabbing a piece of fabric that was lying on the desk, he started to dry himself but he stopped moving completely, except for a raised eyebrow, when his gaze landed on the letter again; he had noticed on the envelope the name of the head of a noble family from one the northern Free Marches cities, the last one he had been able to visit in his ongoing campaign to retake Starkhaven. This family in particular had pledged to support him but had made no offer to help him with troops, like many other of the allies he had recruited. So Sebastian had allies, but no actual army with which to retake his city.

Intrigued, he opened the letter and read the elegant writing arranged neatly all over the parchment, reminding him of the troops he so desperately needed. A troubled scowl painted his forehead when he finished reading it, and it took all his will not to crumble the parchment with his fingers; the noble was demanding a new deal: they would give Sebastian half of their army if he accepted to marry his eldest daughter, or he would withdraw his support and marry her to the usurper of the Starkhaven's throne instead.

Rage and loathing crashed against him so hard they took all the air out of his lungs. With a shaking hand, Sebastian left the letter back on the desk and made a decision right there. He only had time to grab his shirt before he left his room, and, putting it on on his way out, went to look for the grand cleric.

He didn't have to search for long; she was standing by the altar, lighting one of the numerous candles lying at the feet of the colossal statue of Andraste that towered over the center of the chantry.

"Your Grace."

Elthina raised her head from her task and gasped when she saw the sight in front of her.

"Maker's breath, Sebastian! What happened to you?" she asked as she stared at him, with a frown on her face; the prince looked as if a wave had rolled over him: his hair was dripping, he had dark circles under his eyes, his face looked haggard.

He hesitated, ran his hands through his wet hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"...Nothing. I didn't have a good night, that's all. But it's not important. I really need to talk to you."

She stared at him for a few seconds as if she was considering whether to scold him or not; it only served to increase Sebastian's discomfort but didn't diminish his conviction one ounce. When she noticed the determined lines of his expression, she finally gave up and sighed.

"Alright, then. What is this urgent matter that dragged you here looking like that?"

"I'm giving it all up."

"What?"

"I'm giving it all up," he repeated, more vehemently this time, "I made a vow to the Chantry and it was wrong to turn my back."

"Sebastian," she said, weariness straining her voice, "listen to yourself. You're as impulsive now as the day you turned away from us. Do you think the Maker wants another rashly-spoken vow that you'll abandon when the next passion takes you?" she asked as she shook her head.

"I will not-"

"Won't you?" she interrupted him. "What about Hawke?"

Silence was the only thing that managed to escape from Sebastian's open mouth; the rest got stuck in his throat, choking him before he could say a thing. Slowly, he closed his mouth, feeling Elthina's gaze on his face.

"Just what I thought," she said with a sigh. "This is your life, child. Don't spend it being blown about like a weathervane."

"But, Your Grace..." he pleaded.

"I will not take you back like this, Sebastian, not when you don't even know what you want..."

She paused when she noticed someone coming over.

"But here's Hawke," she said to Sebastian, and then to Hakwe, "Maybe you can talk some sense into him." Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she walked away and left them alone.

Hawke raised an eyebrow, as she watched Elthina walk away.

"I don't think "sense" is really my strong suit," she told Sebastian, rather confused.

Sebastian was so fired up Hawke only had time to make a quick eye contact with him before he blurted out all that was going through his mind.

"How long has she spent telling me that I need to return to the Chantry and now that I want to, she won't take me." He started pacing back and forth, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "It was wrong of me to break my oath to the Chantry. I turned against the Maker, and for what? _Why_ would I want to rule Starkhaven and deal with jackals like Lady Harimann for the rest of my life?"

"Whoa! Calm down, Sebastian. What's going on?" Hawke was taken aback by Sebastian's sudden explosion. She wasn't expecting that; she had only came here to apologize for her behavior last night and because, frankly, she didn't want to be home.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply, reining his emotions in. That's when Hawke noticed that his usually spruced image was gone: strands of his hair were out of place and wet, framing the strong lines of his face; his shirt was loose and allowed her to see below his neckline. She couldn't decide if she should feel worried or aroused; she had to swallow back a laugh at the thought.

Sebastian finally spoke, drawing her out of her distraction, and told her about the letter, finding in her familiar face a friend he could trust.

His tale slowly knitted Hawke's brows together.

"If you give it up, what then?" she asked when he was finished.

"I suppose I would have to convince Elthina my commitment is sincere. Then I would remain here, to represent the Maker's interest as she sees best."

Hawke stared into his eyes, her heart caught up between her feelings for him and her own selfishness. She tried to pick up the best sentence she could from the jumble of words in her head.

"Do you see yourself as a priest or a prince?" Hawke asked him finally, wanting to help him sail out of his dilemma.

He sighed, "That's exactly the question I've been praying for guidance about; when I think of going to Starkhaven, calling on allies like Flora Harimann and all the corrupt scheming nobles, my throat swells shut in horror. When I think about staying, I'm at peace."

"But what about your people? Are you going to abandon them? You should ask yourself what's best for them, not just for you."

He snorted, "I do not have hubris enough to imagine it matters to the common people who rules them. Someone will take the reins. The fields will be planted, the crops gathered. No one will notice that a Vael lives and isn't there. And I can devote my life to the Maker's will on Thedas."

"Is that what peace means to you? 'Cause to me it sounds more like you're running away from your responsibilities because it's easier for you," she was starting to get irritated at him for some obscure reason.

"My responsibilities lie here, in the Chantry."

"That was before you became the last of your line, Sebastian. You don't become a prince because you want to. You do it because it is your responsibility. If you stay here, your family will disappear with you when you die."

Sebastian was a little shocked by Hawke's bluntness; she wasn't usually like this. But he knew she had a good point, which didn't make it easier for him.

When he remained silent, she insisted, with a softer voice, "Don't give up now. You defeated the desire demons. All of Kirkwall benefited."

"Of everything we've done, I'll never regret that. But I don't know. I've been praying for guidance and had nothing." There was a pause, and then, "I cannot return to Starkhaven, and subject my people to war, without a clear sign that it's the Maker's will."

"Again with the Maker's will!" she said, her irritation transforming into outright exasperation. "What does that even mean, Sebastian? You cannot sit around and wait for a sign from the heavens to act. There's no sure-proof way of knowing if what you're doing is the right thing to do; you just go ahead and do it!"

Sebastian stared at her, surprised. "Why does this even matter so much to you, Hawke? Why do you care if I become a prince or not?"

"I don't even know why I care!" she shouted, not caring where she was or who could hear them. "If you become a prince, you'll leave! If you stay here as a brother, you'll never..." she stopped and changed what she was about to say, lowering the tone of her voice as she spoke her sudden realization out loud, "Either way, I am going to lose you and I just can't handle that right now."

"Hawke..." Sebastian suddenly comprehended what this conversation might mean to her but he couldn't find anything to say. He felt paralyzed.

"I have to go," she said when he didn't say anything and left him before he could find his voice and bewitch her with it.

Sebastian just stood there and watched her walk away from him until she disappeared from his sight.

Maybe it was better this way... For both their sakes.


	8. Chapter Eight

Varric spied on Hawke from the corner of his eye as they walked side by side towards Darktown. He couldn't help but notice the lines on her brow that had become a constant sight these past days. Not to mention the dark circles under her eyes: she looked as if she hadn't slept in days. Frowning, he tried to remember when was the last time he had seen a genuine smile transform Hawke's features. A memory slowly shaped itself out of the recent past: at the Hanged Man, the expression on her face as she watched Sebastian waiting for her by the door...

It felt like it had been a lifetime away.

"You wanna tell me why Sebastian hasn't been gracing us with his presence lately?" Varric asked Hawke, tired of avoiding the subject.

Her frown deepened and she passed her hand over her eyes as if trying to block the face that had suddenly materialized behind her eyelids.

"Not particularly," she replied.

"But something must have happened. Or this change of mood of yours is just for show?"

She looked down at him with a questioning eyebrow, "What change of mood?"

"Well.. you've been kind of... forceful, lately."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm my usual charming self."

Varric snorted, "Sure! And I'm a skinny elf that loves to frolic in the woods. Come on, Hawke, what happened between you and choir boy?

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yep."

"Oh, I see. So maybe that is the problem."

"Shut up, Varric."

"Alright, alright. No need to get all grumpy..."

They kept walking in silence the rest of the way, for which she was grateful.

Almost a week had passed since the funeral and Hawke had barely allowed herself time to grieve. Varric had had the crazy idea that maybe she was going to take it easy, but, Hawke being Hawke, it hadn't happened; she had thrown herself into a job almost right away, a job concerning that cursed mine of hers: The Bone Pit. They had spent days investigating the cargo thefts that had been occurring in the mine and it had led them into Darktown, where the man responsible for the thefts, Brekker, was supposed to have his hideout.

When they reached the rendezvous point, they discovered it was empty; Aveline was late. So Varric leaned against a wall, crossed his arms, and waited. He watched Hawke fume and start pacing, back and forth, back and forth, constantly raising her eyes at the faintest noise to see if Aveline had arrived, until Varric started to feel dizzy.

"Are you trying to carve a tunnel into the sewers?"

She just glared at him and kept pacing, impatient.

After some more minutes of watching her pace like a caged predator, Varric decided his nerves had had enough. He started following her to see if that would stop her maddening stride.

She only ignored him, so he tried a new approach.

"You know, Hawke, we could make the most of this pleasant time we're sharing and talk about the subject you've been avoiding all week: your mother."

That did it. Hawke whirled around to face Varric and stop him in his tracks.

"Andraste's flaming knickers, Varric! Should I just stand under that torch so you can interrogate me properly? You're going to alert all of Darktown that we are down here."

Varric cleared his throat, regretting his words a little. Still, he replied with a smirk, undaunted by Hawke's flash of anger, "You should repeat that in front of choir boy. I'm sure he would love to hear you curse in the name of his bride's underwear."

"Shut it," she said, turned around, and resumed her pacing, forcing him to stand aside with a frown on his face. He was starting to get worried about her; not only did she refuse to talk about her mother and pretended everything was as it used to be, but the way she fought now... it wasn't like her at all.

Aveline arrived some time later.

"You're late," Hawke said, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry, Hawke. I got caught up with Seneschal Bran on my way out of the Viscount's Keep and it was hard to brush him off. But I'm here now."

Hawke stared at her and had to swallow a toxic reply that burned her insides; it kept happening every single time she saw her.

"Yes, you're here now," she replied, still looking at Aveline, containing the rage that kept trying to crawl its way out of her throat.

Aveline stared back, frowning, but Varric interrupted them before she could say anything.

"You know, we could use more help. Blondie's clinic is pretty close to the hideout's entry. Shall we recruit him on our way there?"

Anders. Hawke forgot for a moment her inner struggle and turned her head in the clinic's direction, as if she could see through the walls and find him. She had seen him a couple of times that week, although never alone, and she could tell something was bothering him. She thought she knew what it was. Which was the reason why she hadn't asked him about it.

"Alright. I'll go pick him up and we'll meet at the location," she told the others and went to look for him.

She found him kneeling beside one of the cots he had inside the clinic, bandaging the arm of a young man sitting on the cot.

Not wanting to disturb him, she waited and watched from a distance. She was soon absorbed by the movements of Anders's hands, so precise but gentle, careful. It reminded her of the way her father used to soothe her or her siblings whenever one of them got hurt. The ghost of a smile touched her lips; Anders was many things but she had always admired the fierce passion that moved him to help the people who needed it, the forsaken, the oppressed. Even if she didn't always agree with his methods.

Watching him treat the man, she suddenly was overwhelmed by a fierce wish: if only Anders could heal the bleeding gap that had lodged itself in the middle of her heart...

"The worst part, I healed," he said to the man when he was finished. "I would have been able to get it all out if you had come sooner, but you'll be alright."

"Thank you so much, sir."

"The rest is up to you. Here, take this." Anders gave the man some sort of salve. "Take that bandage off tonight and apply that to the area and you'll be as good as new tomorrow."

The man lowered his head, "How will I ever repay you?"

"Just don't try to steal food from a hungry mabari again, alright?"

"I won't!" he smiled at Anders and then left.

Hawke waited until the young man had disappeared and then stepped closer to the mage.

"Anders."

He raised his head, surprised, and looked at her, the lines of concentration on his face dissolving as his eyes focused on her face; she could see a barely contained hunger in them.

"Hawke..." he said softly and let her name hang in the air between them; the multiple undercurrents in his voice made it hard for Hawke to guess what he was thinking.

"Hi."

"You come alone?" he asked her, his eyes searching behind her for someone else.

"Uh... yes," she replied, puzzled by his question. "I just came by to see if you want to help me out with a job. If you're not busy, that is-"

"I'll help," he answered almost before she finished talking.

"A...alright, then. Great! Varric and Aveline are already waiting for us."

He raised an eyebrow, "...Not Sebastian?"

Her heart winced at the mention of his name and even though there was nothing in Anders's clinic that could possibly remind her of Sebastian, his face seemed to shape itself out of the walls, out of the very air, to haunt her.

"Maker, why is everyone so surprised that he's not coming?" she asked, irritated.

"Because... it's a rare thing to not find him glued to you since he decided to start following you around like a lapdog earlier this year."

"Hey, watch it..." she warned him.

He frowned. "So? Is he busy?"

"We're not joined by the hips or anything so I can very well go do my bloody business without him having to come along," she snapped.

"Did you two have a fight?" Anders looked at her as if he was trying hard to hold back an emotion wanting to burst through his face.

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mind wandered back to the last she had seen of Sebastian and the hollowness that had latched to her back when she didn't hear his steps following her as she left the Chantry...

"Did he hurt you?" he asked softly at the change in her expression, taking a step towards her.

Yes, she wanted to say. No. She didn't know... She looked at him and said,

"Anders, nothing happened and I fail to see how this is any of your-"

She suddenly found herself surrounded by his arms in a tight embrace. Shocked, she stood frozen, very conscious of the warmth irradiating from Anders's body, threatening to melt her. For a second, her whole body pleaded to her to surrender, to put her stubbornness and brave act aside and just let herself be comforted...

Then she remembered those weren't the arms she was yearning for.

He raised his head from the embrace when her body remained stiff to look at her, still not letting her go. She could feel his breath tickling her face as his eyes wandered from her eyes to her lips.

"Anders, what the hell do you think you are doing?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

His eyes looked into hers again. Blushing, he said the first thing that came to his head, "You look terrible."

She made a face, "You know exactly what the ladies love to hear, don't you?"

He chuckled nervously. "Well, you do."

"You're so kind. But I didn't come to see you just to hear how beautiful I am," she pushed him away softly to escape from his grasp. That had been way too close.

He stepped back. "I'm sorry..."

"Are you coming or not?"

"Do you still want me to?" he asked, his amber eyes suddenly sad.

Maker's breath... "Of course. Just try to avoid hugging me by surprise. Next time I might not be able to keep my right fist from visiting your face," she jested, only half-joking.

He smiled ruefully. "Yeah, sorry about that..."

"Come on. We're just wasting time."

"Okay. Let me just grab my things." He reached for his staff but stopped when he saw his hand, "And wash my hands. That was a nasty infection I just treated."

She grimaced. "Nice."

"This is nothing. You should have seen the case I had yesterday. That guy had this huge, deep..."

"Don't!" Hawke raised her hand to stop him and closed her eyes, trying to protect her brain from indelible mental images. Anders just chuckled and went to get ready.

They soon found themselves exploring an underground passage that was supposed to be Brekker's hideout. A small group of thugs had been waiting for them at the entrance but Hawke's party had cut through it with ease. She was currently finishing off the last thug of the second wave they had encountered in that dank, filthy place. She thrusted the end of her staff into the man's neck, breaking it, and then electrocuted him when the body fell to the floor, just to be sure. She wiped blood off her face with the back of her hand and turned around to find Anders, Varric, and Aveline looking at her as if she were a darkspawn that had suddenly crawled out of the earth.

"What?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Varric said to Anders out of the corner of his mouth but it still reached Hawke's ears.

"Tell him what?"

"Is everything alright?" Anders asked her, taking a step towards her; it looked like he was about to raise his hand and put it against her forehead to see if she had a fever or something.

She slapped his hand away. "Don't be ridiculous. We have a job to do, so let's do it."

Hawke passed between them, turned the corner, and sauntered towards the far end of the dark passageway, where there seemed to be some stairs leading to an exit. The rest of the party trailed behind her, exchanging meaningful looks.

Just as they reached the middle of the room, a man appeared at the top of the stairs, armed with a pair of daggers. With a movement of his head, Hawke and her friends suddenly found themselves surrounded by a group of thugs.

Hawke scowled and tightened the hold on her staff.

"You must be Brekker," she said, contempt oozing from her words.

"And you must be that lice-covered refugee," he retorted, matching her contempt word for word.

"Hope you enjoyed saying that. Those are the last words you'll ever speak."

Varric and Anders only had time to exchange a surprised look before Hawke swirled her staff in the air, hitting the closest thug on her right, and then threw a bolt of lightning at Brekker with her free hand. Brekker rolled out of the way before it reached him and disappeared behind a wall of his mercenaries.

Enraged, Hawke swam through the air in a deadly dance, summoning the powers of the earth and sending them flying from her hands as her staff electroshocked every single thief she could find before they could even get close to her.

Aveline ran forward to place herself between Hawke and Brekker's thugs, her sword and shield already bringing a couple of enemies down as she moved. The rest of the party did all they could to keep up with them, but Varric realized that Hawke was going to win this body count. He was frightened by the unusual bloodlust shining through Hawke's face.

But not even Aveline's tank force managed to keep all the enemies away from Hawke. There were too many and she was starting to get overwhelmed.

Hawke touched her head with her fingers and sent a mind blast around her, forcing the thieves to stagger backward and making enough room for her to escape the worst of the battlefield so she could look for Brekker.

She instinctively turned around, trying to find Sebastian in the midst of the chaos; they had fought together so many times she was tuned to his every move. But all she found was his absence, throbbing like a fresh wound in her personal space.

The shock of the realization distracted Hawke and opened a window for Brekker. He managed to evade the fury of Varric's crossbow, and sneaked up behind Hawke, a dagger ready in his hand to stab her back, but she heard Anders shouting a warning at her. She swirled around and smacked Brekker on the shoulder with the end of her staff, making him drop the knife and lose his balance. Moving her hands in a parallel line across the ground, she summoned a block of rock out of the earth and sculpted it with the full force of her distress to petrify Brekker's legs, immobilizing him.

Brekker stared wide-eyed at the berserk mage coming at him, fear and rage mingled in his face. Hawke marched towards him and reached out to grab him hard by the neck. Staring back at him with a frenzied craze overpowering her brain, she sent a charge of electric energy straight through his body.

She didn't hear the sounds of the battle dying down around her or her friends carefully approaching her.

All she heard was the strangled gurgle Brekker uttered before he died.

Still, she didn't let go.

"Hawke...?"

Anders's voice reached her as if from a great distance.

"He is dead. You can let him go now..."

Hawke loosed her hold and Brekker's charred body fell to the floor at her feet. She stared at it, closing and opening the hand that had killed him; she could feel herself shaking, as if something uncontrollable were about to break through her bones and skin and rage over the world.

"Hawke, are you alright?" Aveline took the words out of Anders's and Varric's mouths.

"I'm fine," she replied, expressionless. "Let's leave this place."

She turned around with the intention of heading to the exit, but found her path blocked by Aveline's muscular frame.

"Wait."

"What?"

"You go on ahead, guys. I need to have a chat with Hawke," she said without moving her eyes away from Hawke's face.

"Aveline-"

"Alone."

"You heard her, Blondie," Varric said and left, dragging Anders with him.

"What do you want, Aveline?" Hawke demanded when they were alone.

"Follow me," she ordered her and the tone in her voice left Hawke no choice but to obey.

* * *

><p>"What happened back there?" Aveline asked Hawke as soon as she closed her office's door. She walked towards her desk and waited for an answer.<p>

"We made Kirkwall a better place by getting rid of a band of low-lifes. That's what happened," she looked at Aveline. "In fact, someone should have given us a medal by now; it seems it's all we do."

Aveline sighed but kept her frustration under a leash by crossing her arms. "You know what I'm talking about. You razed those men with the brutality of an ogre."

Hawke looked down and pressed her eyes with her fingers. She still felt shaky after the battle; still felt the cracks on her walls, threatening to crumble down any minute.

"Is that why you brought me here? To scold me? Varric and Anders would have done the same but they would at least have bought me a drink."

Aveline frowned but chose to ignore her comment; she decided it was time to bring up the subject she was really interested in. Uncrossing her arms, she said,

"Hawke, I don't care what else is going on. We haven't spoken about Leandra. How are you?"

She caught Hawke off guard. She wasn't expecting Aveline to bring up her mother. How dare she speak her name...

"I have a smile on my face. That should be enough for most people," Hawke answered with an automatic smirk that masked an anger crouching like a tiger in her throat.

"That doesn't work on me. You've been acting a little..." she hesitated. "I'm just worried about you."

The concern in Aveline's green eyes sent the tiger flying out of its hiding place. "Keep your sympathy for the next person you let die."

"What was that for?" she asked, taken aback by the sudden rage radiating from her friend.

"This was your fault, Captain! Your job is protecting the city. If you were any good, my mother would still be alive."

Aveline stared at Hawke, speechless, her green eyes unreadable.

"I see."

"Well?" Hawke demanded irritated.

"Well what?"

"Get mad or swear it'll never happen again or... something!"

"It would help, wouldn't it? To have a target that you could throw your anger at? What do you want me to say, Hawke?"

Hawke pierced Aveline with her blue eyes but it remained very hard to feed her fury when she found no resistance waiting for her on the other end. Disarmed, she shouted in frustration and turned her back on the guard-captain. She knew Aveline was right, she knew she was being unfair and ridiculous. Hawke felt the sting of repressed emotions behind her eyelids and covered them with a hand. She was just tired, tired of crying herself to sleep every night, tired of the anger that refused to leave her alone, tired of feeling Sebastian's absence as strong as if he were standing in the room with her...

Aveline's own anger faded slowly as she watched Hawke and comprehended what her friend was going through. She took a step closer to her and rested her hand on her shoulder.

"I don't have an answer that can satisfy you. The guards never do. I'm so sorry for your loss..."

Hawke took a deep breath and let it out with a shaky sigh. "And I'm sorry for acting like an ass," she said when she finally faced Aveline again.

Aveline smiled, "Well, she is your mother. You're entitled to act like an ass if you want. Just remember there are people who care about you."

Hawke nodded and smiled back, just a small smile.

"You know, I knew Leandra, too. I want to think my mother was like her. I just have flashes of... impossibly long hair. But my father... Would you like to hear one thing?"

"You've never talked about him," Hawke said, surprised.

"My father spent everything to get me into Cailan's service," she lowered her head and looked at the floor before continuing.

"Do you know what I remember?" She looked back at Hawke. "When he read to me -stupid things, dragons and heroes- he wouldn't turn a page until I reached over and took his hand. That big man made every step of the story my choice. I loved that," she said fondly. "He died of the wasting in a Denerim ward... those last weeks, I read to him. I had to take his hands to turn the pages. And I couldn't tell if he was too weak, or if it was the old game. He smiled at that, at his big girl..."

Hawke watched Aveline as if she had suddenly turned into a stranger; she was no longer the warrior, the guard-captain, unmovable, hard and steady as a rock, but a woman with a heart full of scars. In her despair, she had forgotten how much her friend had lost too, just like her.

Aveline laughed at herself, rising from the depths of her past. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. Drink?"

"I could use one," Hawke answered, smiling.

Soon, Aveline was taking a bottle of her best wine and a couple of glasses out of a cabinet. She filled them with the red liquid and handed one cup to Hawke.

"As much, or as little as you want. No one tells you how to mourn."

Hawke stared at the red blood wine, thinking. Then, she raised her glass, "A glass for those we've lost."

"All right then. Benoit du Lac and Leandra Hawke."

They drank from their glasses and Aveline said, "Don't let anyone tell you when to move on. Take their hand and say "my choice". I'll miss her too."

"Wow."

"What?"

"You actually give good advice, guard-captain."

"Don't sound so surprised."

Hawke smirked. "Anyway... Thank you, Aveline."

"Don't mention it."

They stayed in silence after that, just enjoying the wine and each other's company. But for Hawke, the silence soon turned into a ghost-ridden time with nothing to distract her from herself. She started to shift uncomfortably in the chair.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Sebastian was here the other day."

Hawke's stomach dropped to the floor. "What? Here?"

Aveline nodded. "Well, not exactly here in my office. He came to see the viscount and we bumped into each other."

He came to see the viscount? Did that mean he had chosen Starkhaven instead of the Chantry? Hawke choked on the sudden yearning that rose to her throat. She cleared it and asked, "How is he?"

Aveline studied her before she answered.

"Kind of like you right now when he asked me about you."

Her stomach jumped back up and reached her throat. "He asked you about me?"

Aveline sighed, "Look, if it weren't for you, Donnic and I would never have gotten together. You were there for me and salvaged the situation from a disastrous ending."

"And it wasn't easy, let me tell you," Hawke said, remembering.

"Shut up and listen. It looks like it's my turn to help you out. There's clearly something going on between you and Sebastian. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..."

"Fair enough. Just let me tell you something: you shouldn't let anything, anything, stand in your way if you feel your relationship is worth it."

Hawke looked down at the floor.

"Hawke... Sebastian is a good man. Maybe he just needs a little nudge in the right direction. Just like I did."

Hawke cocked an eyebrow.

"Alright, alright, you had to shove me. Shut it."

A smirk touched Hawke's lips and Aveline rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean," Aveline said as she left her glass on her desk and leaned forward to stare into Hawke's eyes. "We never know how much time we have left with the people we love. We shouldn't waste it, Hawke..."

She left Aveline some time later. The night surrounded her as she crossed the Viscount's Way, her head spinning and not only because of the wine; she couldn't get Aveline's words out of her brain. When she reached Hightown square, she stopped: her bruised and beaten body just wanted to go home and crash in her bed, but her heart tugged her sleeve with a sense of urgency that tasted like fear, wanting her to run to the chantry. It was the task of her mind to decide. Home or...

It's late, her mind reasoned with her. Better wait for tomorrow.

But her eyes lingered on the space that separated her from him. She almost took the first step that would decrease the distance between them.

Instead, she shook her head and rubbed her tired eyes.

"I'm just being foolish," she whispered.

Hawke turned around and headed home.


	9. Chapter Nine

The firelight coming from the torches inside the chantry quivered across every surface it could find; it seemed to be dancing with the shadows, one always a step ahead of the other. No light intruded on them from the skylights and windows, only darkness. Free from interference, shadow and fire wavered from place to place, reaching out to touch each other, always about to become one, but never merging, cursed to remain forever apart.

Sitting on one of the benches on the second floor, Sebastian watched this tragic dance play in front of his eyes over the bronze surface of the statue of Andraste. So absorbed he was by the spectacle he didn't notice when someone sat down quietly next to him and followed his gaze.

"You should get some rest, child. It's late."

Sebastian drew away his eyes from the tantalizing sight and looked at the grand cleric's concerned face.

"Your Grace... I thought you had retired to your chambers already," he said, surprised.

"I was on my way there but then I saw you sitting here on your own. You look rather lost, Sebastian. Are you still trying to make a decision?"

He nodded and looked down at his feet.

"What is keeping you from deciding?" she asked.

Hawke's image immediately appeared in his mind, forcing him to shut his eyes. A whirlwind of emotions blew in along with her face and scrambled his thoughts; he had never been so confused before in his life. He had Hawke to thank for that. No, that was unfair; he couldn't blame anyone but himself. He was the one who had decided to abandon everything and go back to Starkhaven to reclaim his place as rightful heir; the one who later had regretted making that same decision in the first place. Every step he had taken since the day he found out his entire family had been murdered had been his own.

Pushing Hawke aside from his thoughts where she couldn't muddle them further, he said, "I still don't know what is the right thing to do. My prayers remain unanswered."

Elthina sighed. "Sebastian, the Maker always answers our prayers. We are the ones who fail to interpret the signs He sends us."

He frowned, puzzled, trying to remember if he had received some sort of answer from the Maker he had somehow missed.

"All I'm saying is that you have spent all week doing almost nothing but pray. Staying locked up inside the chantry all day clearly hasn't helped you. Maybe you need something different. Maybe the Maker has already given you an answer and it's waiting for you out there. In the world."

Sebastian's eyebrows lifted up; it made sense.

"Your wisdom humbles me, Your Grace."

She smiled at him and rested her hand on his. "I am only the messenger. Go to bed, Sebastian. Get some rest. Let the light of a new day help you."

With that, she stood up and left.

Sebastian returned his attention to the wavering light when Elthina was lost from his sight, and stayed there for some time, his elbows resting on his legs, his hands intertwined. He lowered his gaze eventually to stare at the space between his arms, feeling his breath coming in and out of his lungs as the fire continued playing with the shadows.

He kept tracing the same old patterns that his mind had already covered infinite times, unable to find something new that would help him decide.

He didn't know if he should remain in the Chantry or start the war that would put him in the throne that was rightfully his.

He just didn't know.

And then, suddenly, he discovered a single thread that ran through both futures; the only thing that would make both options mean something beyond themselves. He let his breath out slowly and closed his eyes, sending a silent thanks to the Maker, as a sense of peace spread from the center of his chest to the rest of his body; he had realized there was one thing he finally knew for sure, whether he chose one path or the other: he wanted Hawke by his side.

Now he knew what he must do.

* * *

><p>Hawke stood outside her mother's bedroom. She had been there for some time, just staring at the closed door, not daring to open it. She raised her hand and touched the door gently.<p>

The anger that had been boiling in her veins for days was almost gone; she had felt it slowly fading away since her conversation with Aveline the day before. Grief had occupied most of the space anger had left behind but that emotion wasn't new to her: loss had become an old, if unwanted, friend. And for that reason, Hawke knew she could handle it. She would move on.

Her hand started moving, caressing the patterns of the wood. She liked to imagine mother was still in there, humming to herself as she stitched up a piece of her daughter's clothes, which never returned quite complete after finishing a job. A smile touched Hawke's lips.

The sound of steps coming up the stairs shattered the comforting image Hawke had created. She turned her head to catch Bodahn approaching her respectfully.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, messere, but your friends are here and are waiting for you at the foyer."

She frowned. She had forgotten Varric had sent her a message that morning, letting her know he was going to pay her a visit. Impatience started nagging at her; she had spent all morning putting off her decision to go see Sebastian with the pretext that she needed to nurse her wounds, and now that she was finally getting around to it, Varric was here.

But Bodahn had said friends, not friend. Maybe Anders had come as well.

"Varric didn't come alone?"

"No. Your friend Isabela is waiting with him."

"Oh. Alright, tell them I'll be right there."

"Of course, messere," the dwarf nodded and turned around. Hawke watched him walk away, but she didn't move just yet. Her attention returned to the bedroom's door.

"I miss you, mother."

With a sigh, she let her hand drop to her side and finally walked away.

"What earth-shattering matter requires my attention now?" she asked Varric and Isabela upon reaching the estate's foyer.

Varric smirked and said, "Oh, nothing too complicated. Just hanging out with your pals at the tavern and letting them pay all your drinks."

"It certainly sounds like something worth my time. Let's go!" Hawke smiled at them. She knew this was just another opportunity to avoid visiting Sebastian but she couldn't help herself; she just wasn't ready to handle the possibility of a rejection yet.

She grabbed her staff, strapped it to her back and led the way out of the estate.

"Actually... there might be a life or death situation that requires your attention, Hawke," Isabela added casually as they walked to the door.

Hawke paused with her hand already on the door's handle and looked at her. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

Isabela smiled nervously at her. "Well, remember that relic I lost?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Not again, Isabela! How many times have we gone looking for it?"

"But this time I'm almost one hundred percent sure it is the one!"

"Almost one hundred percent?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Look, you can tell me all about it at The Hanged Man. When I'm sitting down and have a pint in my hand."

Hawke turned around before Isabela could further argue with her and opened the door, but when she stepped outside, she was stopped mid-step by the sight of Sebastian crossing Hightown square in her direction.

"What's the hold-up?" Isabela asked behind her, while Varric stuck his head out behind Hawke's back, trying to see what was going on.

Hawke remained silent, watching Sebastian get closer, his white armor catching pieces of sunlight and throwing them directly into her eyes.

"You didn't tell us he was coming with us," Varric asked Hawke as she moved aside to make room for the others.

"He wasn't."

"Huh. Well, the more, the merrier!"

Sebastian's stride faltered when he saw them standing in the estate's entrance, but he kept moving forward. He was now close enough that Hawke could notice the determined line of his jaw, along with a new expression in his face she had never seen before. She frowned, intrigued. And yet, to see his face again, his eyes looking at her... it sent her heart and stomach in a race to see who had the fastest emotional spasm.

"Good afternoon, Hawke. Isabela, Varric," Sebastian greeted them when he came to a halt before them, "Uh, did I come at a bad time?"

"Choir boy! On the contrary, your timing couldn't have been more perfect. Hawke here has been positively miserable withou-"

Hawke kicked his foot before he could finish that sentence and said quickly,

"Hello, Sebastian!"

"That was uncalled for..." she heard Varric mutter by her side but she carried on anyway.

"Long time, no see!"

"I am sorry." Sebastian looked away for a second, feeling ashamed for having avoided her all week, but he looked back up at her just as fast. "I should have come to see you sooner."

A smile escaped from Hawke's grasp and landed on her face. "It's alright. You are here now," she replied, not daring to take her eyes away from him.

He held her gaze, his heart trying to readjust the rhythm of its beats to a more normal pace. "Marian... Do you think we could talk? Unless you're too busy."

"I'm sure I can make some time for you," she answered, the smile still on her face; her eyes were probing his, looking for answers she had been seeking all week long. Yet, his eyes were cloaked behind a veil that kept her out, something they had never done before, something that seemed to take the air away from her lungs.

"Oh, please, you're making me nauseous..." Isabela grimaced and pretended to be sick.

Varric cleared his throat. "I have the feeling this party is starting to become two people too full."

Hawke, feeling a tightness in her chest she couldn't understand and that irritated her, looked at Varric and said, "Go on ahead. I'll catch up with you in the tavern later."

"I hate to hurry you up but, remember? Life or death situation going on?" Isabela reminded her, her voice cracking with an anxious tone that sounded strange in her usual buoyant self. It put a frown on Hawke's face; maybe this time Isabela was right.

"Try to postpone the death part until we talk, Isabela," she told her. She really needed to talk to Sebastian first.

"Alright, alright... Just try to hurry, ok?" she pleaded. "Come on, Varric."

Isabela marched off and Varric followed, shaking his head.

Hawke's attention returned to Sebastian.

"Come in," she said and led him back inside, letting him close the door behind them.

Before they could move forward, Hawke's dog came out of nowhere and barked happily at Sebastian, wagging its tail furiously.

"Well, well, it seems someone is really happy to see you."

Howl barked, agreeing with Hawke's statement. Sebastian smiled and bowed to Howl.

"I am happy to see you too, Howl."

The proud mabari returned the bow and, after demanding some pets out of Hawke, trotted off into the estate and lied down in front of the fireplace.

"You are going to spoil him, you know? Soon he is going to believe he is too good to be playing fetch with me," she said as they started walking inside.

Sebastian chuckled. "I doubt it, Hawke."

She smiled at him. "Come. Let us find a place free of nosy doggy ears," she said and made him follow her upstairs.

"Can't we talk in your study?" he asked nervously when he realized she was taking him to her bedroom.

"I think Bodahn is in there cleaning it and I'd rather have some privacy."

"Oh."

"It's alright. I don't plan to ravish you, if that's what you are worried about," she smirked at him when she closed her bedroom's door. "You are safe with me."

A nervous laugh escaped his mouth and he rubbed the back of his neck, forgetting for a moment what he had been planning to say to her.

She moved to her desk and half-sat on it, her hands holding the edge; she could feel her palms starting to sweat. Picking up the conversation before he could focus again, she asked,

"So, have you made up your mind?"

"What?"

"About your dilemma. Prince or priest. What's it gonna be?"

"Well... the problem is, I am both. I don't know how to choose."

"It can't be that hard to pick one. There must be something holding you back. What is it, Sebastian?"

"To be perfectly honest..." he said and took a step towards her, shortening the distance between them, "you."

Hawke looked at him, surprised. Her heart purred in some kind of strange satisfaction.

"Oh..." was the only thing she could say. He hesitated where he was standing, waiting. "Keep going..." she gestured at him, an interested expression on her face.

Sebastian gave her a small smile. "You told me once that I should follow my heart," he said, taking another step in her direction. "I'm not sure if my heart is my best advisor these days, but..."

"Yes?"

Finally gathering his thoughts, he breached the distance between them with another step and reached for her hand; he raised it to his lips, pressing them against her skin, his eyes closed.

"Surely, you must know how I feel about you..." he whispered when he finally looked up and stared into her startled eyes.

"Do I look like a psychic to you?" she said, a little breathless.

"Marian, I know I cannot offer you much right now - I can't even decide what to do with my life - and I know you deserve no less than a prince, but I can't imagine any kind of life where you are not in it. I want to remain by your side, whatever life has in hold for us."

Hawke just stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Whatever she was expecting, it was certainly not this.

He waited, her silence making him nervous. "That is, if you take me..."

"Well, I... I'm not sure what this means. You are not going back to the Chantry?"

He moved his head back a little. "No. I told you I don't know yet what I am going to do."

"But you want to be with me anyway?"

"Yes."

A line creased her brow. "But how?"

"I was hoping you would help me with the details."

"Well..."

While searching for an answer, Hawke suddenly realized how close his face was to hers. She could feel the warmth of his hand holding hers as she stared into his eyes; she couldn't believe she had forgotten how startlingly blue they were, how beautifully they contrasted against the darker tone of his skin. And his mouth... his lips parted and closed, waiting for her to speak. It would be so easy to just move a little bit forward and...

"You are a prince. Nobody tells a prince what to do... or who to do it with..." she whispered, moving closer to his mouth.

"Hawke..." he whispered back, his voice hoarse; his eyes had wandered down to her lips while she spoke. He licked his own lips inadvertently and looked up again. "Don't think I'm not tempted. But I can't. I knelt and swore before the Maker that I would take no wife but Andraste."

He tried to move his head back but she slid her free hand behind his neck, sinking her fingers on the baseline of his hair.

"Wife? I'm just talking about two people, one night and forgetting all their troubles."

She covered the distance between her lips and his lips, gently pressing on them. She felt his head strain back against her hand but she held it in place, her kiss getting more insistent.

Her lips were like velvet on his mouth, her movements soft, but thorough, searching patiently for an opening. He tried to resist, a voice inside his head trying to convince him this was wrong. But the voice sounded far away, overpowered by the loud pounding of his heart against his chest. His skin had come alive. He could feel every brush of her mouth, every stroke of her fingers on his neck... her hips softly grazing his pelvis.

With a sudden gasp, he caved in and kissed her back. Letting go off her hand, he raised his own to bury it in her hair, holding her head as he pushed her backward with the force of his kiss. They remained locked, only surfacing when the air ran out of their lungs, just to dive back down into each other's mouths a second later.

World and time stopped for them, receding from the shores that were their bodies, until the fervency of their kiss stole a moan out of the back of Hawke's throat. The sound broke the spell. He detached himself from her lips, gasping. The air that suddenly filled the space between them felt like a thousand miles to Hawke.

"Don't stop..." she whispered, her breath tickling his skin as her mouth tried to anchor itself back on his soft lips.

The throbbing between his legs made it hard to think, but, after taking a shaky breath, Sebastian gently took her face between his hands, forcing her to look back into his eyes.

"Marian, if I break my vows to be with you, I wouldn't be worthy of you. I already have enough sins to atone for..." he told her, almost pleading with such fervor that it cleared her head.

Burying her maddening frustration and disappointment deep behind a smirk, she said, "Stop being so honorable. You're just making me want you even more."

Anguish contorted his features. "You are not making things easier..."

He freed her face and walked over to sit on the edge of her bed. Neither his heart nor his body had recovered from the close encounter yet, and it made him wonder if this was such a good idea after all. Maybe this was madness.

"I am sorry. I should have controlled myself," he said without looking at her. She tried to tell him he shouldn't be sorry but he interrupted her and added, "It must seem like I'm asking a lot. I will understand if you refuse."

Hawke remained where he had left her standing on her own, desire still burning in her veins, and didn't respond right away, wondering if he was really asking for a lot or not. She started to regret what she had done as she watched Sebastian's profile, his eyes lowered, staring at the floor. He looked like he was waiting to be judged, ready to accept whatever fate was decided for him.

She was the one who should have controlled herself.

"Oh, Sebastian..." she sighed and walked over to the bed to sit beside him.

She placed a hand on his knee and his eyes moved over to observe it; her long, delicate fingers seemed to mold perfectly with the curve of his knee.

Hawke raised her other hand slowly, reaching for his face, but stopped it midair and closed it, letting it fall back down to her thigh.

Her gesture didn't go unnoticed but he didn't dare to touch her again.

"Can I ask you something?" Hawke asked after a while.

"Anything."

"There is something I don't understand. What would it mean to you to break your vows? Why do you think it would make you unworthy?"

Sebastian considered her questions in silence, taking his time.

"My honor would be compromised."

"But why?"

He looked at her. "Because if I discard my previous vows to vow myself to you, what could assure you that I wouldn't just as easily break that new vow?" He spoke with more conviction than he had intended and frowned; his voice had sounded as if he were trying to convince himself and not Hawke.

She stared at him. "So what you are saying is that no one trusts a man who breaks his oath?"

"Exactly."

"You make a good point. A very honorable one, at the very least."

He chuckled and Hawke just watched him, weighing the pros and cons. She bit her lower lip in concentration: she knew what she would have to give up if she agreed to have a relationship with him; she just didn't know how much of a toll it would take on her in the long run.

But then the corner of his mouth curled up in a hesitant smile and she was forced to throw her own hesitations out of her mind when she was blown away by the force of the affection radiating from her heart.

Like the cursed blight if she was going to let something like a no-sex policy stand between her and the man she loved.

"So," she said, lowering her eyes as she petted his knee twice, "I'm willing to give it a shot."

"You are?" He sounded surprised.

She looked at him and smiled warmly. "Of course! I'm always up for a challenge," she said with a wink.

He narrowed his eyes. "You are going to keep trying to... you know... aren't you?"

Hawke smirked. "I respect your decision, Sebastian. I promise I won't try to corrupt you. Not too often, at least."

He chuckled and shook his head, placing his hand over hers and entwining his fingers with hers. He felt her hand squeezing his as he said, "I came here barely daring to hope..." he looked into her eyes, "and now that my fleeting hope has materialized, I have to confess I am not sure know how to do this, Marian."

"Oh, surely you must remember something from the wild days of your youth."

"Hawke..." he scolded her.

She laughed. "Don't worry, Sebastian. We will figure it out along the way."

They smiled at each other until the silence became a little awkward for Hawke. The truth was she didn't know either what to do next. If he was any other man, she knew exactly what she would be doing right now, but he was Sebastian... Staying there, sitting on her bed, probably wasn't a bright idea.

"So... wanna come with me to The Hanged Man? Varric and Isabela must be getting impatient. Or gossipy. I don't know which one is worse."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't want that," he said, smiling.

"No, we wouldn't," she smirked and pulled him to his feet, guiding him to the door.

He studied her profile from where he was walking, only a couple of steps behind her, and was filled with the sudden urge to see her smile again. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and Hawke turned to look at him; he watched her, fascinated by the way her features brightened up when she smiled.

Sebastian let her lead him, brimming with a warm sense of contentment he had never experienced before. It was different even from the way he had felt when he had been completely committed to the Chantry.

In that moment, he realized that by choosing the Chantry's path of faith and service, he had forgotten there were other paths, no less worthy, that led to the same goal.

Maybe this was the answer from the Maker he had been praying for.


	10. Chapter Ten

Sebastian, still holding Hawke's hand in his own, felt a resolution taking shape inside himself that made him see that his previous decision had still been too lukewarm and safe. Walking by her side like this, the warmth of her hand radiating into his skin, and, more importantly, knowing she felt the same way about him, it became difficult for him to remember why he had extricated himself from her lips. He was a prince after all. And princes weren't meant for chastity...

Hawke felt his eyes on her as they reached the main hall and turned to look at him.

"What?" she asked with a smile.

Sebastian stopped her but before he had a chance to open his mouth to answer, they were intercepted by Bodahn's son, who walked over to them with something in his hand.

Sandal smiled up at Hawke. "Enchantment?" he said and reached out to hand her a sealed letter.

"Is this for me?"

"Enchantment!" Sandal replied, leaving the letter in Hawke's hand and returning to his work table.

"He doesn't say much, does he?" Sebastian said as he watched the young dwarf pick up a seemingly innocent rock from the desk and began carving something on it.

"No. But you should see the way he livens up a party with his explosions," she smirked.

He smiled back and their eyes locked again. Her eyes softened as she looked at him, tugging at his heart.

Sebastian almost told her what he was going to say before Sandal had interrupted them but he noticed something was bothering him... A recent memory and the voice of Elthina, his mentor and wisest advisor...

_Do you think the Maker wants another rashly-spoken vow that you'll abandon when the next passion takes you? This is your life, child. Don't spend it being blown about like a weathervane..._

Hawke raised her hand and brushed the line that had appeared between his dark brows. "What's the matter?" she asked him softly.

"Nothing..." he shook his head slowly and decided maybe it wasn't the best time to say something, not when there were still doubts shackling him to his past; he needed time to straighten things out in his head. So instead, he took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm, holding it against his face with his eyes closed.

He opened his eyes and gazed at her when a sigh that had escaped from Hawke's lips reached his ears, a look of longing in her azure eyes.

"...Are you sure I can't kiss you again?" she said.

Sebastian chuckled and set her hand free. "Maybe you should open that letter. It looks important."

Hawke sighed again as she stretched her fingers, the sudden emptiness in her hand like a cold winter breeze, and looked down at the letter. It had the viscount's seal on it. Intrigued, she broke the seal and took out a short note written in Viscount Dumar's elegant handwriting.

"Who is it from?" Sebastian asked when he watched a frown forming on her brow.

"The Viscount," she replied. "It seems he can't live without me."

"Is something wrong?"

"He wants to talk me. He says, and I quote, that it is a matter of the utmost privacy and urgency," she said, turning to look up at him, and then added with a smirk, "Do you think he is missing a tea partner?"

"It sounds serious," Sebastian replied.

She agreed. Hawke didn't like the sound of it either.

"Would you walk with me to the Viscount's Keep?"

"Of course."

She sighed. "I was rather looking forward to a pint."

* * *

><p>Sebastian observed the now too-familiar pattern of the floor outside the viscount's office as he waited for Hawke. He had stood there countless times before in the last years, waiting to see the man in the hope he could get support and troops. Unsuccessfully, of course. He wondered at how Hawke had managed to become a needed ally to the viscount in such a short time and in what appeared to be a random manner: she seemed to just stumble into this type of situation without really meaning to.<p>

Maybe with Hawke by his side, it would become easier to reclaim Starkhaven...

He brushed aside the sudden thought, considering it rather improper, and raised his eyes when he felt, more than saw, someone approaching. The seneschal gave him a cold greeting and an annoyed look as he passed next to him on the way to his office. Sebastian frowned: that man seemed to live in an eternal state of exasperation.

The prince went back to observing the floor and let his mind wander back to what had happened between him and Hawke less than an hour ago; he still couldn't believe that Hawke had accepted him with the condition he had asked for. Overwhelmed by the joy that was beaming inside his chest, he knew he must be one of the most fortunate men in the world, and the thought put a silly smile on his face.

Yet, he could also feel a darkness that kept trying to invade the edge of his happiness; a disquiet looking for a way into his heart, but he ignored it, not wanting to deal with the consequences of his decisions right now... Of the kiss.

Ah, the kiss...

He passed his hand down his mouth as he remembered the kiss Hawke had started and he had ended, retracing each and every move and sensation, until he was interrupted by a voice calling his name and his eyes darted back up, looking guilty and flushed.

He coughed and returned the greeting from a noble that was passing by.

"Maker's breath..." he said under his breath and rubbed his forehead.

He jumped when the door next to him suddenly opened. Hawke came out of the viscount's office, brows knitted.

"What is it?" he asked her, forgetting his previous train of thought.

"Trouble," was her only reply and she beckoned him to follow her in silence.

They hurried up, away from the viscount's office, and only when they were going down the stairs towards the exit did Hawke speak up.

"We need backup," she said, her voice only for his ears.

"All right..." Sebastian had no idea what was going on but he knew it must be important if Hawke was being this secretive so he saved his questions for later. "Are we picking Aveline up?"

"No, we can't involve the guards in this. Let's go look for Varric and Isabela. I'll explain later," she almost whispered to him as they left the Viscount's Keep behind them.

After that, they only made one stop to pick up Hawke's mabari from her house and then walked in silence all the way to the Hanged Man.

They reached the tavern not before long and started looking for their friends as soon as they were inside. Hawke noticed an irritation starting to spread all over her mood when they couldn't find them quickly; she realized she didn't feel like being there, surrounded by so many people, and immersed again in a problem that was none of her business. She wanted to be alone with Sebastian...

Smothering her desire with sheer will, she moved away from the door, pulling him with her.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"I don't see them..."

"Me neither."

"Wait. There's Varric."

Sebastian led the way to the small fireplace where Varric was gulping down a pint.

"Varric." Hawke said as soon as they reached him.

"Hey, you're here!" Varric raised his arms to welcome them, the empty pint still in his hand. "I can see your talk didn't go too well..." he added when he noticed the worried expression that was glued to his friends' faces.

"What? Oh... No, that went well," she said as her eyes darted to Sebastian's face and a smile strayed over her lips, stealing a blush from the prince's expression.

"Oh, I see..." Varric smirked. "Now I'm positively intrigued!"

Hawke interrupted him, "Now it's not the time. Where's Isabela?"

Varric had to drop it when he heard the urgency behind Hawke's voice. "I don't know. She disappeared on me all of a sudden."

"Damnation..."

"What's wrong, Hawke?"

"Can we talk in your private quarters?"

"You are starting to worry me," he said after nodding and led them to the back of the tavern.

As soon as they reached Varric's chambers, Hawke ordered Howl to guard the door and finally turned around to explain to Sebastian and Varric what the viscount had told her.

"Seamus Dumar is missing."

"The viscount's son? Again?"

"He left to join the Qun and damn the consequences. Viscount Dumar thought I would be the best option to try and bring him back. Lucky me."

"Andraste's flame. This isn't good," Sebastian said.

"Tell me about it. I don't think I need to tell you how ugly things could get because of that. The viscount doesn't want to involve the guard so he asked me to talk to the Arishok in person."

"You're too charming for your own good, Hawke. Even the horned, broody giants seem to like you. I don't envy you."

"You don't need to. You're coming with me."

"Oh, thank you for such a gracious invitation to see my favorite race in the world."

"Don't ever say I never did anything nice for you," she said, smirking. "Alright, we don't have time to pick up anyone else. We have to go to the docks now, before things get out of hand."

"You don't need to tell me twice, Hawke. The last thing I want is to see berserk Qunari invading my tavern." Varric grabbed Bianca, strapped her to his back, and added, "Although I do wonder how on earth do you manage to get involved in every single problem of this city..."

"I was wondering that myself," Sebastian said, the side of his mouth curved up in a smile.

She rolled her eyes. "It must be my irresistible charisma. That or my inability to say no to people in need. Let's go."

Hawke turned her back on them and walked off, leaving them to follow her steps with amused smiles on their faces.

Howl trotted ahead of them when they exited the Hanged Man, running back only when he felt he needed to check on his pack. The rest walked behind him at a fast but steady pace.

"So, did you steal choir boy's virtue this afternoon?" the dwarf asked Hawke and Sebastian as they made their way to the Qunari compound. He had noticed the little changes that had occurred in their relationship between the last time he had seen them and now; the awkward glances from the corner of eyes were now replaced by tender gazes of ones who had become accomplices in some precious secret they were guarding from the rest of the world.

Needless to say, he was dying to know the details.

Hawke laughed. "What? We're in the middle of averting a war and that's what you're thinking about?" she reprimanded him with a twinkle in her eye as Sebastian gawked at Varric.

"Oh, come on, Hawke. I'm sure you can share a saucy detail or two with me before we jump into the snake pit."

"She did no such thing, Varric," Sebastian said, uncomfortable because the memory of the kiss had come back to crash over him with full force.

"And it's none of your business if I had," Hawke finished Sebastian's phrase as she watched with amusement the blush that was spreading over her beloved's skin.

"So what happened then? If you don't tell me I'm going to have to make up my own version and you know how that will go."

"No."

"Hawke..." he pleaded. "Something. Anything!"

"Varric..."

"Alright, just answer me one question."

"One."

"Are you two together now? A couple?"

Hawke and Sebastian looked at each other. He shrugged at her, smiling.

When her eyes returned to Varric's face, they were smiling. "I guess you could say that."

"Ha! I knew something had changed! So you finally decided to throw that silly chastity vow out of the window, huh? Good for you!" Varric patted Sebastian's back with his heavy hand and, then added as an afterthought, pretending to be shocked, "But what will the grand cleric think?"

Sebastian frowned and didn't even try to correct Varric's first assumption. "I...have no idea," he answered; that was a question he too had been asking to himself.

Hawke noticed Sebastian's change of mood but didn't comment on it.

"Come on, Varric, drop it. We can all have a nice chat about our _private_ affairs later when we have sorted this situation out."

Varric had no choice but to obey Hawke because Howl had returned from a scouting trip and stayed close to them, a low rumble coming from deep inside his chest. A warning sign.

They had reached an unsavory part of town they needed to cross to get to the docks. It was a dark alleyway they usually used as a shortcut but today it reeked with danger. And human waste.

Howl started to growl when they were just a few steps into it, the hair on his back standing up. All of them quickly grabbed hold of their weapons and got ready for any threat the mabari could sense that they couldn't. Sebastian had an arrow ready on his bow before Howl had finished his first growl and started scanning their surroundings, his aim ready. They were in the perfect spot to be ambushed, out in the open, completely vulnerable. The only way out of the alley were the stairs on the other side but there was too much open space on the second level that could get overrun by enemies fast.

They kept advancing in silence until Varric raised his hand to stop them; he signaled with the same hand to the ground, informing them there was a trap right in front of them. Hawke, Sebastian, and Howl positioned themselves to cover Varric while he knelt down to disarm the hazard.

Sebastian spared a second of his attention to check on Hawke, whose fingers were already surging with energy. Her eyes meet his and a silent acknowledgement passed between them; they knew they had walked right into a trap but there was no backing away now: they needed to reach the docks.

A wave of shouts broke their locked gazes. Sebastian had been right; the empty open space was now full of mercenaries. He spotted a man on the second level running towards him and jumping over the fence with a pair of daggers raised in the air. A rogue.

Sebastian let his arrow fly and sent it right through the man's chest. He quickly stepped back just in time to avoid the dead weight of the body and had a new arrow already aimed at the next mercenary.

This time the arrow pierced the neck.

"Scoot!"

He heard Hawke shout at him and he lowered his upper body just before he felt a shot of lightning char the air above his back. A scream filled the air for a second before he heard a thud.

"One less to worry about," she winked at him and dived back into the fight.

Sebastian allowed himself a little smile before he turned around, just in time to watch Howl rip a man's throat out. Four more of his arrows sang through the air before his bow ran out of targets.

Just when he thought they were done, Sebastian heard Varric, who had been covering their backs, shout at them,

"Grab something sharp and pointy. We have company!"

Howl ran pass him like a demon and a gurgle reached Sebastian's ears before he could turn around to see a fresh batch of mercenaries closing in on them from behind.

"Fly straight and true..." he whispered to his arrow and released its deadly sharpness straight at his target.

Soon, the battle was over.

Varric and Sebastian began the tedious task of retrieving the arrows that could be salvaged from the corpses; Varric congratulating Bianca on her brilliant work, Sebastian whispering a prayer for the soul of the dead.

Hawke watched them as they moved across the battleground, checking if any of her companions had received any serious injury but they seemed to be fine, all things considered. The party had managed to avoid permanent damage so she scanned her own body and found a particularly nasty gash she had on her left arm. She touched it gently and then saw Sebastian's hand touching it too.

"That doesn't look good," he said.

She looked up and saw his concerned eyes.

"It's just a scratch," she told him in return, placing her hand over his. "I'll be fine."

"I hate to interrupt you, love birds, but we should get going. I would bet my beard, if I had one, that these fine fellows here were sent to stop us from reaching the docks."

"He is right," Sebastian agreed. "But who hired that lot? Someone anti-Qunari, anti-viscount, or Seamus himself not wanting to be rescued?"

Hawke shook her head. "Seamus isn't the type. Let's go."


	11. Chapter Eleven

Anders left the protection of the entrance of Hawke's estate and moved into the sunlight, wondering where Hawke could be. He had come looking for her but Bodahn had told him she had left some hours ago without telling him where she was headed.

He sighed and looked at the sky; the sun was beginning to hide behind the high walls of Kirkwall, the shadows slowly reclaiming the territory they had lost during the day.

The mage took a couple of hesitant steps, unsure of where to go next. He wondered if Hawke was still upset with Sebastian... he hoped she was. A sudden headache made him wince; Justice disagreed.

"Oh, shut up, old boy..." He whispered and ignored the pain; he didn't care if he was being selfish. He needed to seize this opportunity. But before he could decide on a direction, a familiar voice made him turn his head to his left and his eyes found her: Hawke was marching quickly across Hightown Square with her mabari, followed closely by Sebastian and Varric.

Sebastian. Dammit.

Without thinking twice, he hurried up to catch up with them.

"Hawke!"

She slowed down and turned her head around, along with the rest of the party, to see who was calling her.

"Anders! Great timing. Come with us!" she said, beckoning to him, and resumed her pace before Anders could reach her.

The mage frowned, puzzled, and caught up with Varric at the rear of the party.

"What's going on?" he asked him.

"Trouble, Blondie. What else could it be with Hawke?"

"What kind of trouble?"

"Do you want the epic version or the simple one?"

"The simple one; I can read the other later when it's finished," Anders answered with a slight smirk.

"Oh, you're no fun..." Varric replied and started explaining the journey that had begun with the letter that Hawke had received earlier that day and had led them to the Qunati compound. "So when we finally reached the Arishok, he gracefully informed us that Seamus was not even there; apparently, the viscount had sent a letter pleading to his son to meet him at the chantry. But, of course, the viscount had not sent any such letter so that's when Hawke put it all together: chantry, plus Qunari trouble, equals..."

Anders thought for a minute and then the face of a woman with short blond hair crossed his mind. "...Petrice."

"Ding, ding, ding. So now we're on our way to save the viscount's boy from the claws of Mother Petrice."

"Crap."

"Exactly."

Hatred distorted Anders's features. "Blasted Chantry! Always meddling with issues that doesn't concern them..." Anders said loud enough for everyone to hear and spat on the floor, right at the base of the long staircase that led up to the chantry's doors.

Hawke saw Sebastian clench his jaw, clearly disliking Anders's derision on the Chantry. She placed her hand gently on his arm as they started to climb the steps, grabbing his attention, and made an almost imperceptible shake of his head, her eyes on his. He stared at her and then Hawke watched him exhale the air that he had been keeping inside.

The exchange put a frown on Anders brows: what on earth had that been? He feared he had come too late; it seemed Hawke had gotten over whatever it had been that had driven her away from Sebastian.

But he didn't have time to puzzle more, for they were almost at the chantry's entrance.

Hawke halted before the massive double doors and lowered her head, taking a few seconds to calm down and collect her thoughts; there were too many factors involved in this situation that required careful handling, too many powers pulling and pushing that could tip the balance into chaos or peace. And the Maker knew she wasn't the most diplomatic person. She felt inadequate in a way, pushed into a political game she hated, with only her principles to keep her from drowning.

Sebastian called her name, pulling her back to the present. She sighed before turning around to stare at them all.

"I think it's obvious we're walking intro a trap. Be alert."

Everyone nodded.

With that, she turned around and pushed the doors open.

The chantry stood unnervingly silent and deserted ahead of them. They crossed the threshold, their steps echoing against the walls, the clink of armor and weapons too loud in the sacred space. Hawke moved ahead, guided by the light of the few torches that could barely hold the shadows at bay along the long corridor that led to the nave.

Once they reached the altar, she looked up; she could make out the silhouette of a man kneeling on it, head lowered, his face hidden by the shadows. She thought about calling Seamus's name but something stopped her. With a sense of foreboding, she climbed the stairs, followed by the others. No one said anything. They all felt a strange pressure in the air that refused to be disrupted by any noise.

Hawke approached the kneeling figure of the viscount's son, fearing the worst. Getting on one knee next to him, she touched his shoulder and watched in horror as Seamus's body collapsed to the ground.

"Serah Hawke, look at what you have done."

Hawke snapped her head towards the voice that had spoken and found Mother Petrice approaching the altar from below. She was accompanied by several armed men and women, including a templar.

Petrice continued, "To pounce upon the viscount's son, a repentant convert, in the chantry itself? A crime with no excuse. Your Qunari masters will finally answer."

Anger boiled in Hawke's veins as she raised herself from the floor. She felt her friends close in behind her and knew they were as angry as her.

Looking down at Petrice and her entourage, she shouted, her frustration clear in her voice, "How does this help anything? All this will do is make people hate you!" She just couldn't comprehend how blind and full of righteous hatred this woman was. It would actually be funny if she wasn't so dangerous.

"I have kept the fear of the Qunari fresh in every sermon, every prayer. They will know whose word to believe. When people learn of this attack, they will rise. Not zealots or the unknowing, but the true majority."

Hawke huffed. "Great plan! Until people start dying in a war with the Qunari."

Someone had allowed this madwoman to acquire too much power...

"To die untested would be the real crime. People need the opportunity to defend faith. Starting with you." Petrice turned around before Hawke could answer and shouted to her followers, "Earn your reward in this life and the next! These heretics must die!"

Hawke cursed and watched Petrice disappear behind her followers. She turned around and shouted some orders to her friends. They were going to have to kill innocent people. Fools, but innocent in the end.

They didn't pose much of a threat to Hawke's party but she had to give it to them: the righteous angry mob did have a lot of spirit. After almost getting overwhelmed by it in the first few minutes of the battle, they soon changed the odds to their favor. The only one who gave them real trouble was the leader: the masked templar, but two angry apostates, two expert archers, and a vicious war dog were too much for him to handle at the same time and he was down soon enough.

When the battle was over, Petrice reappeared with impeccable timing, herding the grand cleric behind her.

"Do you see, Your Grace? Traitors attacking the very core of the Chantry! They defile with every step!"

Hawke wished she could set Petrice on fire. She almost did but Sebastian grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

"Enough death, Hawke... The grand cleric will solve this," he whispered to her and let her wrist go when he saw her nod and felt her hand relax.

Elthina stopped before the bloodbath that covered her chantry and took in the sight with clear eyes. "There is death in every corner, young mother. It is as you predicted. All too well," she said with a sad and tired tone touching her voice. And yet, to Hawke she didn't look too affected, considering that her chantry was full of corpses and blood. As if she had expected this... In any case, it was clear that Elthina wasn't fooled by Petrice's show.

"She's on to you, Petrice. Quick, lie harder," Hawke said.

Petrice grimaced, an ugly sneer on her lips. "Don't you spout your Qunari filth. This is a hand of the Divine."

"I have ears, Mother Petrice," the grand cleric interrupted her. "The Maker would have me use them."

Hawke nodded; it was time to set things straight and see justice done.

"Viscount Dumar's son is dead, killed here in your name," she told Elthina.

"I'm sure my name won't like that. Petrice?"

"Seamus Dumar was a Qunari convert! He came here to repent and was murdered!" the mother replied, desperation creeping in her defense.

Hawke added, "Petrice arranged this. And more. Love or hate the Qunari, a blind nug could see she took this too far."

"No price is too much when we speak of eternity!"

"Oh, please..." Anders said under his breath, behind Hawke. Even Sebastian shook his head. Hawke was starting to feel sorry for that woman.

"Eternity is long enough that we need not rush to meet it," Elthina said calmly to Petrice.

"They deny the Maker!"

"And you diminish Him, even as you claim his side. Andraste did not volunteer for the flame," she scolded her and then turned to Hawke. "Serah Hawke, you act on behalf of the viscount?"

Hawke assented.

"The young mother has erred in her judgment. A court will decide her fate. The Chantry respects the law, and so must she."

Erred in her judgement? Hawke stared at her, a little shocked. She was impressed by the imperturbability the grand cleric was showing at this incident, knowing she would not be as composed. Maybe it was a sign of a good grand cleric. Who knew.

She spied on Sebastian from the corner of her eye and saw a hard expression on his features, making it hard to read them. She thought she could see approbation in it, though. She frowned but she couldn't help the satisfaction she felt when she saw the look of incredulity on Petrice's face after hearing Elthina's words.

The mother called to her twice, shock filling her voice as she watched the grand cleric turn her back on her and walk away. She turned back, trying to understand what had just happened when surprise took over her face.

Hawke didn't have time to turn around and see what had shocked Petrice; something else had grabbed her attention: an arrow impacted on the mother's chest, piercing it, and sending her two steps backwards with the force of the impact. Petrice fell down to her knees.

They all turned around in time to see a Qunari take one more step toward them and walk nearer his target. He raised his bow again and Hawke's eyes followed the arrow's trajectory into Petrice's brain. The corpse fell to the floor in a pool of blood.

Hawke looked back at the Qunari.

"We protect those of the Qun. We do not abandon our own," he explained and went back the way he had come.

"Andraste's ass, I didn't see that one coming..." Varric muttered as they all turned back to see Petrice's corpse lying on the tiles.

Elthina's voice reached them. They looked up and spotted her standing at the top of the stairs, watching the scene in front of her with a pained expression. "Please... send for Viscount Dumar..." she said and then left them.

Sebastian had to repress the urgency to follow the grand cleric and talk to her, but Hawke had instinctively moved closer to him so he stayed where he was.

Varric turned to face them and said, "Hawke, do you want me to go fetch the viscount?"

"That would be great if you could, my friend," she said gratefully.

"Anything for you, Hawke," he winked at her and left.

None one said anything for a while after the dwarf departed; the three of them could feel the magnitude of what had happened here and there was nothing they could do but wait for the viscount's reaction. Sebastian felt a pang of sorrow as he watched the carnage committed inside this holy place, knowing his part in it.

He finally spoke, giving voice to this thoughts, "Qunari and blood in the chantry. The viscount's son dead. This won't just go away."

"I don't think anyone came out unscathed. What now?" Anders added.

Hawke stared at the Qunari arrows protruding from the corpse of Mother Petrice, thinking. She rubbed her temples; she could feel a headache coming. "The Arishok's the one to worry about. So we clean up and wait for trouble to find us."

She stepped away from them and climbed up to the altar again, where Seamus lay under the shadow of Andraste's statue. The boy may have been stubborn but Hawke had always admired his convictions and determination... Anger returned. She knew she couldn't directly blame the grand cleric for the actions of one of her flock but still, Elthina was responsible in a way and maybe if she had acted sooner instead of waiting...

The viscount's arrival interrupted her train of thought. He came surrounded by city guards but he commanded them to stay near the entrance until he called for them.

Hawke watched him walked towards her from her place in the altar with the gait of a man who has lost all hope but refuses to acknowledge it yet, as if he dreaded what he would find at the end of the path his legs were inevitably taking him.

He didn't even look at Hawke when he stepped on the altar and was faced with his worst nightmare; the look on his face made Hawke look away as she recognized the despair behind his eyes. Viscount Dumar's knees crumbled to the floor as if they couldn't hold the weight of his heart anymore. He took his son's body into his arms, shaking with rage, with grief... Defeat was etched to the lines of his shoulders and neck.

"My... son," he said with effort. "Murdered at the heart of the chantry by those who held a sacred trust. What hope for the city, when we fail our own so completely?" he asked, reflecting all the despair and anger that were still so fresh in her own heart for her mother's death.

The scene in front of her eyes was too close, too achingly familiar and it threatened to reopen a wound that was just starting to heal. But she also knew how much was at stake for the entire city if actions were not taken immediately so she kept her own emotions at bay. She hated what she needed to say and the words came out without sarcasm or humor.

"The Arishok is still here, Excellency. You must be ready to stand up to him..." she heard herself say, surprised that she still cared about Kirkwall and its people, even after everything that had happened.

Viscount Dumar looked away from her and back at his son.

"I cannot. I have already failed where it mattered most..."

Grief started to shake his entire body and tears fell over the lifeless face of his son.

"Please, Hawke... Leave me..." he pleaded and his voice formed a knot in her own throat. She nodded and backed away, leaving him alone with his irreparable loss.

Sebastian was waiting for her at the end of the stairs, flexing and extending a hand he had bruised during the battle. He stopped when he heard the sound of her steps and looked up, noticing right away the mask of contained grief covering her face that he had come to know so well in the last weeks. She just looked back at him, moisture threatening to overwhelm her eyes, and he breached the distance between them and grazed her face with his hand, his own eyes speaking without words.

"Get me out of here..." she whispered to him and he nodded, taking her hand and leading her away from the terrible scene.

* * *

><p>Marian watched Sebastian as he brought the fire in her room back to life. The dying embers still had enough life in them to send their light dancing over his armor and face. She could feel a tightness in her chest that was more than just her old wound reawakened by the viscount's loss. Yes, the grief was there, probing at her defenses, but she ignored it. Her discomfort had more to do with the grand cleric and a thought that had nested inside her mind: that maybe Anders was right in a way and Elthina was not the leader she should be; that she was truly incapable of action when it was most needed.<p>

She wondered if Sebastian had noticed it or he still worshiped her as always... And yet, she knew he still looked up to her, and who could blame him? She had practically been his only family since the day he joined the Chantry.

Hawke made the wine swirl in the glass she was holding in her hand, no longer seeing Sebastian. Events had been set in motion this night that she couldn't stop or control but could only wait for them to happen and she didn't like that. She took a big drink from the glass and set it on the table. That was when she noticed that Sebastian was the one watching her now.

"How are you, Marian?" he asked, his voice so low she knew it belonged only to her, and, in spite of the turmoil disturbing her mind, the intimacy of his voice curved the corners of her lips into an involuntary smile and eased the knot inside her chest.

A light answer tried to assemble on her mouth but failed. What came out of her lips surprised her with its honesty, "Upset. Worried. Angry... Really tired. How are you?"

He moved closer to where she was resting and sat on the chair in front of her. Then he said, "Same as you."

"Upset, worried, angry, and really tired?" she asked with a slight smirk.

Sebastian chuckled. "Exactly."

They let the silence fall between them as they smiled at each other, allowing themselves to be comforted by the growing warmth coming from the fireplace and the sound of burning logs. It had been a long day, full of changes and decisions, and they needed a respite.

But it wasn't long before Hawke started fidgeting on her chair, her mind going round and round the same thought that wouldn't let her rest. She chewed her lower lip, thinking; she might as well bring up the subject that was troubling her and be done with it.

"Sebastian..."

"Yes?"

"What do you think of the way Elthina handled what happened tonight?"

He looked at her, baffled by the question. "What?"

Returning his gaze, she repeated the question, louder this time.

"I think she handled it wisely," he answered, a frown creasing his brow; something about the way she had asked the question bothered him. "Why do you ask?"

"Wisely..." she whispered, not looking at him.

Sebastian leaned forward and touched her knee. "Hawke, where did that come from? What's going on inside your head?"

She lifted her eyes and found his again. Fair questions, both of them, as she had just blurted the subject out, but she didn't offer an explanation; she kept pouring her thoughts out to him. "You really think she couldn't have done better? Don't you ever question the decisions she makes?"

He leaned back, taken aback by the judgmental tone in her voice. "It is not my place to question what she does. She is wiser than us and more compassionate and we won't always understand the reasons she has for the decisions she makes..." he said defensively.

Hawke had to bite her tongue before saying something she would regret. She didn't know why but she was starting to feel angry. She just stared at him, aghast, refraining her desire to start shaking him.

"Are you serious?"

He felt her question, her whole attitude, like an attack that threatened to widen the crack that had been weakening his faith and conviction; he couldn't stand it, for those had been the only things he had counted on for half of his life, and Hawke's presence just seemed to be destined to make him doubt everything.

"Why would I not be serious? Elthina is the most beloved grand cleric Kirkwall has ever had and no one has the right to question her authority."

"She is still just a human being, Sebastian. She can make mistakes."

"Exactly. Why are you judging her? Petrice was the one who crossed the line here, not Elthina."

"I am not judging anyone. I just disagree with her decisions. The grand cleric needs to step up and take action and accept the responsibilities that are on her shoulders. How is it possible she couldn't have known what Mother Petrice was doing? Does she not supervise her own flock? She just lets all the people under her command do whatever they want?"

Sebastian let out an incredulous laugh. By this time, they were both leaning forward, their faces just inches away from each other. "Petrice acted on her own volition and in secret. How was Elthina supposed to know what she was doing? Besides, what did you expect her to do? Sentence Petrice to death? Kill her with her own bare hands?"

"No, but it could have been prevented! That's my point! But no one cares! They all just sit and wait, hoping all the problems this city has will solve on their own, even the ones in places of power. And I'm the one who has to fix all their messes but I'm always too late!"

Hawke stopped shouting because her voice had broken with the last word; there it was, the real reason she was so upset and she remembered it had nothing to do with Sebastian...

He watched her for a few seconds, observing her face change, and then leaned back. Hawke grabbed glass of wine and took another drink. The prince lowered his head with a sigh. "This is getting us nowhere, Hawke." He started to rise but a whisper stopped him. "What?"

"I am sorry..." she said louder this time. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you. It's not your fault."

He shook his head. "Look..." he said and rose this time, "we are both tired. I don't think it's the best time to discuss these matters. I should leave and let you rest..."

"You don't have to leave," she said, taking hold of his hand to stop him.

"Yes, I do," he leaned forward to kiss her fingers gently. "Goodnight, Marian..."

He left her then and she stayed where she was, hand still outstretched in the empty air, staring at the door that had closed behind him, feeling that she had somehow crushed something fragile that had just begun to grow.

Slowly, she lowered her arm as the grief began to overwhelm her, its dark tendrils embracing her heart like the arms of a lover. But she pushed it back with the force of her anger and frustration and stood up, grabbed her glass of wine and threw it into the fireplace, feeding the flames with the spirit of the red liquid.

The fire flared up for a few seconds and then kept on crackling as if nothing had happened.

"Maker's breath, I can't do anything right," she murmured.

She thought about going to sleep and let the day slip away from her, but she looked at her bed and, even as tired as she was, Hawke decided not to crawl into its empty and cold sheets; she didn't want to be alone with herself tonight.

Calling her dog to her side, she walked away from home and into the night.


	12. Chapter Twelve

_NOTE: I'm sorry it took me so long to update this fic; (busy) life happened. I'm already working on the next chapter so I promise it won't take months this time around. I still think this one could be better but then it would take me forever and I need to keep the story flowing so I do hope you enjoy it. :)_

* * *

><p>Hawke threaded through the Kirkwall night with her wardog by her side. The cold air against her face had already put out some of the anger she had felt earlier, leaving her with nothing but ashes in her heart.<p>

"I miss Ferelden sometimes, boy," she said to Howl and scratched his head. The dog could sense the sadness tainting his beloved master's voice and he answered with a concerned bark.

"You too, huh?" she said, absent-minded.

Howl licked her hand and kept walking beside her.

The empty streets stretched before them, hard and indifferent... suffocating even. Hawke stopped and looked up at the night sky, its black surface full of stars which seemed to shine with a freedom that tasted familiar to Hawke. She would love to hike out of this city of chains; she felt enclosed by its high walls that rarely allowed her to see the horizon. She missed the wide open country of Lothering where she had run freely with her brother and sister as a kid; where her father had taught her about magic and life, and her mother... Maker, she missed her mother so much. Tonight, she even missed Carver.

Hawke suddenly felt utterly alone in the world.

"What if we left this place?" she asked her mabari, still looking at the stars. "What if we left and just stayed away this time, leave everything and every one behind?"

Howl lifted his head and whined at her, clearly not liking the idea. She looked down at him; his eyes speaking to her. She sighed. "Yeah, you are right. Bad idea..."

Howl nudged her leg and Hawke knelt down to embrace him. "I wish love between humans were as easy as the love between us, Howl."

The dog licked her face and let loose a happy bark, making her smile. "Come on, let's go find a friend before I do something stupid."

The distinct smell of Lowtown soon filled their nostrils and it wasn't long before they were crossing The Hanged Man's unusually quiet hall.

Hawke found Varric inside his quarters at the back of the tavern, deeply focused as he scribbled away on a piece of parchment, half of his table covered with other parchments already filled with his handwriting. The ink still looked fresh. She picked up the paper closer to her and said, "You seem to be having an inspired night."

He raised his head from the paper, startled. "Hawke! What brings you to my humble abode at this unholy hour? I thought you would be rolling around under the covers in the arms of choir boy by now. Or at least getting some sleep."

She ignored him and started reading out loud from the paper she was holding in her hand as Howl settled down under the table: "_The chaste prince couldn't contain his desire anymore and ripped open the mage's robe, stealing a blush from her fair skin that made his manly parts throb under his belt buckle of righteousness..._" Hawke looked at the dwarf with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"It still needs a little work..." he said apologetically and started to collect his work, including the part Hawke had taken. It was all she could do not to burst out laughing in spite of her dark mood.

"Why on earth are you writing about us?"

"It's called 'friend-fiction'."

"Friend-fiction," she replied, throwing an incredulous look at the dwarf.

"Yes. Ask Isabela: she started it." Varric stacked his papers on the table and then put them away.

"It's... disturbing."

"No, Hawke! Not disturbing. Fun!" he said, grinning.

"Well, it doesn't matter," she said, waving in the direction of Varric's writing. "Your 'friend-fiction' is probably the only universe where something like that is going to happen."

"So it hasn't happened yet, huh? I assumed as much. You looked happy but not that kind of happy," he winked at her and she glared at him. He carried on, "Don't you worry, Hawke, I'm sure he will eventually break that vow with you in the most passionate outburst you can imagine. No man can hold it in for so many years and stay sane."

She laughed quietly. "Not what I meant, although that's a nice mental image."

Varric smirked. "So what_ did_ you mean?"

"I think I might have screwed things up already."

"What are you talking about? Did you try to take his purity?"

Hawke covered Varric's face with her hand. "Shut up. You're not helping."

He chuckled behind it. "Can I have my face back?"

"Only if you buy me a drink."

"Deal."

Hawke took her hand away and Varric handed her a mug brimming with his own personal reserve of fine ale. She sat down, stared miserably at her drink and spurted the first thought that passed through her mind. "Why can't I ever fall for a normal guy who cares about me without so much drama?"

Varric looked at his friend as if he couldn't believe what his ears were hearing.

"Wow. First time I've heard you feeling so blatantly sorry for yourself. Was it that bad?" he asked as he sat down beside her.

She frowned. "I don't know. Probably not. Just a slight disagreement on Chantry politics."

"Ah, I see. That's why I hate to discuss politics; nothing good ever comes of it."

Hawke nodded in agreement, then: "I'm just so tired, Varric."

He patted her back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Hawke replied. "What I want is to forget about it."

Varric felt relieved. "Alright! Now we are talking. You hold the remedy to all your ails in your hands, my dear friend, and it's not gonna drink itself. Go!"

She smiled and took a long sip. Coming here had been the right decision: Varric's presence was capable of lightening any kind of dark mood imaginable.

"You could have picked Anders..." Varric said suddenly.

She snorted and raised an eyebrow at him. "I said normal."

"Oh, right."

"And no drama."

"Right. Definitely not Anders. But hey, at least you would be getting laid."

"Ha! Only if Justice gave him permission."

Varric chuckled.

"This sounds like a conversation I need to be a part of!"

Varric and Hawke turned to find Isabela sitting down across the table from them, looking disheveled and covered in dirt.

"What happened to you?" they both asked at the same time.

"Oh, nothing. Digging out valuable information always gets you a little dirty."

"Was this valuable information worth all that dirt?" Hawke asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll find out soon enough but, in the meantime, I'm just gonna hang out here with you." Isabela's gaze fell on Varric, "You're being a terrible host. Where's my very much needed drink?"

"Shame on me! My apologies, Rivaini," Varric replied and went to get her a drink.

While they waited for him, Hawke said to Isabela with a smirk, "Before you ask, I do think you need a bath this time."

Isabela stuck out her tongue at Hawke. "I didn't ask. So, what's going on? Did I hear something about Anders and sex in the same sentence?" Isabela asked her first so Hawke wouldn't start questioning her instead.

"Don't forget Justice," Varric commented as he returned with Isabela's drink.

"Oooh, kinky!"

Hawke grimaced but laughed. "This has nothing to do with Anders."

"Right. I don't think Rivaini here knows the news yet."

"What news? That the viscount's son was murdered? I heard about it on my way here. Dreadful situation..."

Varric shook his head. "Well, yes, you did miss that but that's not the news I meant. Our friend Hawke and choir boy got tired of the wistful and chaste long-distance looks and have decided to give it a try."

Isabela opened her eyes wide as she turned to look at Hawke. "What? Our chaste friend has finally been unchastened?"

Hawke chuckled. "No, not exactly..."

"Keep going."

Hawke sighed; she knew she would regret telling her this. "Sebastian and I are together now but he doesn't want to break his vows so we're going to give it a shot in a way that allows him to remain faithful to... let's say, his previous commitments."

Varric had a smirk planted on his face as he waited for Isabela's reaction and wasn't disappointed when the pirate stared at Hawke with a blank expression.

A line of worry creased Hawke's brow, "At least that was the deal; I don't know if the argument we had tonight changes anything."

"Wait, I don't get it," Isabela finally said. "How can Sebastian still be chaste if you are together now?"

Hawke didn't know if Isabela was kidding or not. "Well, a no-sex policy usually helps."

Isabela looked shocked as she stared at Hawke. "What? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! How is that even possible?"

"Oh, come on, it's not that difficult. Some of us can actually keep our pants on, Isabela," Hawke said, teasing her.

Varric laughed out loud and Isabela grinned. "Touché. But, still, you're crazy, Hawke."

"And you just figured that out?" the mage replied, smirking.

"No, this can't be. He can't deprive my girl of intimacy, human touch; sleepless, sweaty nights filled with ecstasy that last from dusk till dawn..."

Varric cleared his throat.

Isabela caught the hint. "Right. My point is I think I'm gonna have to have a serious talk with Sebastian about this."

Hawke saw her mischievous grin and glared at her, "Oh, no, you won't! Don't you dare mention any of this to him!"

Isabela laughed. "I'm joking, Hawke. Maker, you wouldn't be so moody if you were getting laid..."

The mage decided to ignore that comment and lifted her ale to take a drink but was stopped halfway up by yet another inquiry.

"No, but, seriously... does that mean you're not going to have sex with him?"

"Yes, that's exactly what it means," said rather tiredly and tried again to take a drink.

"Never going to have sex with him? Ever?"

"That I don't know. But no sex for the time being."

"How about a good frolicking?"

"Er... I suppose the answer would be no."

"A kiss?"

"Isabela..." Hawke gave up and rested the mug on the table, feeling the color rising to her cheeks as her mind inevitably journeyed back to that first kiss with Sebastian. She cursed herself because Isabela would sure notice her blush and there would be no way to stop her inane probing now.

As if on queue, Isabela assaulted her with a new round of questions, "You kissed him, didn't you? How was it? Oh, I'm sure it was passionate and raw and savage! The serious ones are usually the best ones."

Hawke snapped. "Stop it, woman! And you, stop taking notes, Varric!"

Varric slowly left his pen on the table with the most unassuming expression he could muster.

"It's impossible to talk to you. Here I am, looking for some comfort and all you care about are the steamy, and sadly non-existent, details," she muttered, half-joking, half-serious, and stared at the surface of the table. Exhaustion was starting to catch up with her and she didn't have any energy left to keep this conversation up.

"It's a shame, really," Isabela continued, undaunted.

"Oh, really? And why is that?"

"Because make-up sex is the best things about fights," she winked at Hawke and then emptied her mug in a single drink.

"You're impossible," Hawke sighed, an almost indiscernible smile on her lips. In spite of her mood and her tiredness, she felt grateful for her friends; she didn't feel so terribly alone anymore.

They were interrupted by the appearance of a shady looking character under the threshold of Varric's quarters. Isabela immediately stood up. "I need to go," Isabela said, rather nervous.

Hawke raised her eyebrow. "Do you need help?"

"Not right now but probably later. I'll let you know."

Hawke nodded.

"All right. Take care of yourself, Rivaini. Don't make us have to go save you from whatever trouble you're getting into."

"I can't make any promises," she said with a wink and left with the man.

"I'd say I'm worried about her but I'm not more worried than usual," Hawke said, the words almost vacuumed into a huge yawn she couldn't contain anymore.

Varric chuckled. "I know what you mean. She can take care of herself, though. You, on the other hand, look like you're about to die from exhaustion. You need to get some rest, Hawke."

"Yeah, yeah... I'm just gonna rest my head here on your table for a little while before I go home."

He opened his mouth to reply but she had already passed out on his desk. Varric smiled. "Oh, Hawke..."

The dwarf lifted her up very gently with his sturdy arms and carried her to his bed. He removed her boots and then tucked her in, making sure she was as comfortable as possible.

"Sweet dreams, Marian," he whispered before he grabbed some pillows and a blanket to make a bed for himself on the floor.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Sebastian yawned and rubbed his tired eyes. He had barely gotten any sleep since the night of the viscount's son incident; when he'd reached the chantry after leaving Hawke, he had found chaos and a multitude inside the place, including numerous city guards trying to deal with the mess left behind by Mother Petrice's little plot. He had stayed up almost all night and half of the next day to help as much as possible until his exhaustion got the better of him and he had retired to his chambers.

Last night hadn't been any better: he had wanted to talk to Hawke about their argument but she was nowhere to be found, and so he went to bed with a restless heart and a head full of bad dreams. He had woken up to a quieter chantry and still no news from Hawke, no reply to the message he had left for her at the estate.

He was now warming up with the first rays of the morning sun flooding his room through the only window, and a cup of coffee that he held between his hands. Memories from the last couple of nights seemed to rise up with the vapor from the coffee, creating impermanent patterns before his eyes. More than anything, he felt regret every time he remembered his discussion with Hawke; the last thing he had wanted was to have a disagreement with her but he hadn't been able to stop the anger he had felt when she had spoken of Elthina like that. He had asked himself how could he be with someone who thought that way about one of the most important people in his life? But now that question seemed so silly... Because how could he not be with Hawke? His gaze got lost in the spirals dancing out of his drink as he rummaged through the questions in his soul.

With a frustrated sigh, he left his cup on the desk by the window and ran his hand down his face. He felt torn between his past and his future and he knew he couldn't bear to live like that much longer. Something had got to give if he was ever going to have a shot at being happy with his life. There had to be a way to make his faith and his love coexist but he was afraid of the sacrifices he would have to make.

"Andraste's flame, Elthina was right: I am fickle," he said with a humorless chuckle.

He put aside his doubts and left his room to carry on with his duties so he could look for Hawke afterwards.

When he finally left the Chantry, the sun was high up in the sky. He walked across the streets of Hightown and noticed the tension in the air: people were talking, nervous, about the murder of the Viscount's son and the Qunari involvement. There was already talk of war. Sebastian sighed and shook his head, wishing it wouldn't have to come to that.

He was welcomed by Bodahn into Hawke's estate.

"Is Marian home?"

"You are finally in luck, messere Vael. Come in, come in," Bodahn answered him as he ushered him inside the house and into the living room. "She returned not too long ago. I'll go tell her you are here."

"Thank you, Bodahn."

The dwarf left Sebastian in Hawke's study and disappeared. He waited, not knowing what to expect. He rubbed the back of his neck and realized his palm was sweating; staring at it, he wondered at the power she seemed to hold over him, and a resigned smile crossed his lips. He was drying his palm against his thigh when Hawke entered the room, unnoticed.

She stayed near the door and eyed the back of his head warily; she wasn't sure where they stood after their fight.

"I'm sorry about the other night," she said, not really caring about the argument anymore, for she had other things to worry about now.

Sebastian turned around, startled, and found her. Before he spoke, he noticed dark circles under her eyes and various cuts and bruises on her skin: she looked like she could crumble into a pool of exhaustion on the floor any moment. This sight of her made him brush aside their past argument, and he took a step toward her. "It doesn't matter. Where have you been? Are you alright?"

Hawke exhaled her tiredness in a sigh. "It's a long story."

"I have time..." he said and finally reached out to her to gently caress her cheek, right where she had a nasty bruise. She closed her eyes and leaned against his palm, wishing he would hold her.

"Tell me," he said.

She opened her eyes again. "Remember Isabela's relic?"

"Yes."

"Turns out this infamous relic happens to be the sacred book of the Qunari, written by their prophet, and so it is the reason the Qunari are stuck in Kirkwall. Isabela stole it from them. So we finally found it last night. And then she disappeared with it after leaving us stranded in a battle between Qunari and Tevinter mages, right in the middle of Lowtown Foundry. So now I get to add a gross backstabbing to the fond memories I have of that place."

Sebastian didn't know what to say; that was a lot to take in. But he saw fire and pain in Hawke's eyes and he suddenly wished he could somehow take away all the hurt that was beating inside of her like an open wound.

"I'm so sorry, Hawke."

"Oh, it's fine. I'll deal with Isabela later. Right now I have to go help Aveline mediate a situation that could finally trigger the war we're fearing if it's not handled properly."

"What are you talking about? What kind of situation?"

"Some elves fled justice by converting to the Qun, and Aveline needs to arrest them."

"Maker's breath, this does not bode well. I should go with you."

"I would love to if you could. Although, I'm not sure if they'll let us all in. They might only allow a small escort inside so it might be useless for you to come along."

"I could wait for you outside the compound."

She smiled. "My knight in extremely shining armor."

Sebastian answered with another smile. "I missed you..." he whispered on a whim and held her in his arms, as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. Hawke just let herself be embraced and closed her eyes.

"I missed you too." How she wished they had more time to stay like that. She waited a couple of minutes; she loved how the weight of his head resting on hers felt. But then it was time to leave, so she found his hand and lead him away from the warmth of her home.

They reached the docks not long after and found Aveline waiting for them with some of her guards near the Qunari Compound.

"I'd wrap up any other business before we go. It's already a mess, and could get worse," the guard-captain told them as soon as she saw them.

Hawke nodded. "We are ready. Let's go."

Aveline walked over to the huge Qunari guarding the gate and said, "I request an audience with the Arishok."

"He will allow it, but not in this number."

"I will only bring my friend here," she said, pointing at Hawke, "and a small complement of my guard. Is that few enough?"

The guard seemed satisfied. "It is. Enter."

She returned to where the other were standing and informed them that Sebastian wasn't going to be allowed in.

"Are you serious? He is only just one more person," Hawke said, rather annoyed, while Sebastian frowned but remained silent.

"I'm sorry," Aveline said to both, "but I don't want to cause any extra tension here, if I can avoid it."

Sebastian looked at Hawke, "You did tell me this could happen."

"I know, but it doesn't make it any less annoying."

Her expression would have made him chuckle in different circumstances, but, instead, he touched Aveline's shoulder and said, "Could you give me a moment alone with Hawke before you go?"

Aveline considered his request for a few seconds and then nodded. "Just be quick about it. This cannot wait any longer."

"I will."

He took Hawke's hand and guided her downstairs, away from the Compound's entrance.

"I'll wait for you here," he told her.

She shook her head. "No. It would be wiser if you warned the chantry about an impending war. I'm going to do my best but I'm not sure I can contain a violent eruption this time around."

"How can I let you go in alone then, when you are telling me you're walking right into the eye of a hurricane?"

"Because lightning comes out of my fingertips and I command the power of the earth," she said with a smirk.

"Hawke..."

"I'll be fine. I always am."

Sebastian's chest feared otherwise and stole the air out of his lungs. But he knew she was more than capable of dealing with whatever new disaster decided to make an appearance this time. He just hated the idea of not being there to protect her.

"Alright, I'll go back to the chantry."

They gazed at each other, their eyes saying all the things they couldn't bring themselves to say out loud.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he said.

"Careful is my middle name."

"No, it's not. If you had a middle name it would be reckless."

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, you're not getting rid of me that easy."

Hawke turned her back on him to leave and a panic surged from the depths of Sebastian's gut that made him reach out and grab her hand to stop her.

"Wait!"

She looked back at him, alarmed. "What?"

He didn't answer; he just pulled her toward him, grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her so fiercely that he literally took her breath away. A hint of desperation marked the way his lips moved against her mouth and she mirrored it, holding on to the breastplate of his armor, then burying her fingers on his hair. And then she could breathe again; Sebastian was now holding her face between his hands and piercing her with the blue fire of his eyes.

"Now promise me you'll be careful or I'm not letting you go."

Hawke swore she could feel her legs melting under her. "I'm tempted not to promise you anything..." she said with a breathless smirk.

"Hawke."

She yielded, "I promise."

He almost said something else but hesitated: the words he had never spoken before felt thick inside his throat and stayed there as she gave him a last, carefree smile. He watched Hawke disappear inside the Qunari Compound and sent a silent prayer for her before he left.

* * *

><p>Aveline marched towards the Arishok with her escort following her closely. The leader of the Qunari stared at them and rested his massive axe on his shoulder as he spoke his greeting.<p>

"Shanedan."

"Greetings, Arishok. We come regarding the elven fugitives that took refuge here."

He dismissed Aveline's request right away. "Irrelevant. I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp," he said angrily.

Hawke's heart skipped a beat and she cursed Isabela under her breath. Then said: "If you give me time, I'll get it back for you."

"It is much too late for that."

Aveline interrupted, "An issue for another time. We're here for the fugitives."

"The elves are now viddathari. They have chosen to submit to the Qun. They will be protected."

Hawke noticed the threat underlying the Arishok's words, and asked, "Have they truly converted, or are they simply using you as a shield?"

"They have chosen, and so have I. You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots, or the corruption of this city. You will understand why I must do this. Let us look at your 'dangerous' criminals." A movement of his head summoned a couple of Qunari, who walked toward them guarding some elves between them.

"Speak, viddathari. Who did you murder and why?" the Arishok asked the elves.

One of them took a step forward. "A city guard forced himself on our sister. We reported him... or tried to. But they did nothing about it, no matter what we said. So my brothers and I paid him a visit."

"That doesn't excuse murder!" Aveline remarked angrily.

"Are these elves telling the truth?" Hawke demanded, for that confession changed her position in the situation.

"There have been rumors, I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands."

"Sometimes that is necessary," the Arishok commented.

"Like you avenged the viscount's son? It was not right then, and it's not right now."

"I would have done the same thing, in their shoes." Hawke couldn't help it. She had remembered the way her mother was killed and how she had been forced to take justice into her own hands.

Aveline glared at her and said, "Hawke, that's not helping."

"Their actions are mere symptoms. Your society is the disease. They have chosen. The viddathari will submit to the Qun and find a path your way has denied them," the Arishok stood right in front of Aveline, forcing her to stare up at his face.

She wasn't intimidated though. "You can't just decide that. You must hand them over."

Hawke sighed and wished Aveline would just drop it. It wasn't the best time to be demanding things from the Qunari, who had them surrounded and outnumbered. And looked extremely menacing.

The Arishok considered Aveline's words and paced for a few seconds, thinking. Hawke drummed her fingers against her thigh, the only sign that showed how nervous she truly was; she had fought many of their race before but she suspected that a force this large under the Arishok's command wouldn't be an easy task to handle. She was sure the Arishok could crush her into a pile of dust with his bare hands. If she weren't a mage, that is.

When he stopped, he looked at Hawke and asked, "Tell me, Hawke: what would you do, in my place?"

Oh, Maker. Hawke thought she should be honored that the Arishok was actually asking her opinion but she doubted anything she would say would help ease the situation. She could feel every nerve of her body stand in attention, as if they could sense an imminent danger coming her way. So, it was what it was. She knew, in his place, she wouldn't give the elves up, but she also knew that saying that would probably make things worse. Right now, all she could hope for was to buy some time for Sebastian, that he could reach the safety of the Chantry before this situation got out of hand.

"Why not just leave? You clearly don't like staying amongst humans."

The Arishok frowned as if his anger and frustration were concentrated right in the middle of his forehead. "I cannot leave without the relic, and I cannot stay and remain blind to this dysfunction. There is only one solution."

Hawke realized in that moment their time was up. Still, Aveline tried to appease the Qunari leader, "Arishok, there is no need for—"

He raised his hand and shut Aveline up with finger. He then turned their back on them and started walking away. He nodded to his second in command and said, "Vinek kathas."

A spear whistled next to Hawke's ear, chopping a few strands of her hair along its way, and pierced one of the city guards right through the heart. In a matter of seconds, two other guards were already bleeding to death on the floor around them. Adrenaline surged through Hawke's body; she didn't have time to grab her staff before she saw an armed Qunari looming over her and she had to punch him on the face to save her own life. At the same time, Aveline deflected a spear meant for her with her sword and then stabbed another Qunari with it.

Hawke made a move for her staff but Aveline stopped her.

"Not here! Too open! Go, go!"

They started to retreat under a relentless rain of spears, the rest of the guards falling around them. Hawke turned to look at the Arishok, who was staring right back at her. She glared at her new enemy and regretted it had come to this; she had kinda liked him.

"Hawke!" Aveline shouted at her and Hawke ran after her, barely leaving the compound alive.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_After forever, I finally finished the next chapter. I apologize for the delay and I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

><p>The chantry was overrun with people seeking refuge. Word had come that the Qunari were flooding out of the compound and invading the city, unleashing fear and blood all across Kirkwall. Sebastian heard the news directly from a guard that had barely made it alive with the message; he sent the man on his way to the sisters to get his wounds treated, and felt his stomach clench with fear; his mind had immediately flown to Hawke and the last smile he had seen on her face.<p>

The fire blazing from the torches inside the chantry lit his way to the front doors of the sacred building as he navigated through the ocean of refugees threatening to swallow them all. He barked orders, and was forced to stop many times by the need to make arrangements for Kirkwall citizens, but a shout yanked him away from the tide and pulled him to the entrance: the battle had reached the chantry's courtyard, so Sebastian stepped forward and, with his bow and arrows ready, began organizing its defense, along with the templars and guards that were nearby and already defending the building.

An orange haze painted the horizon ahead of them; screams and the clash of metal against metal filled their ears. Sebastian's arrows sang of death as they flew across the air over and over again, trying to push back the wave of Qunari that threatened to drown their city. Kirkwall was on fire, its streets flowing with innocent blood, and the prince of Starkhaven was fighting for the place that had been his home so many years. He stood firm on the right side of the battlement, finding his targets with ease from such height, but desperation started creeping into his movements after a while: his heart told him he was in the wrong place; he needed to find Hawke. She had to be alive; he couldn't allow himself to think otherwise. Sebastian shouted an order to the archer next to him and began backing away, headed towards the long stairway that went down to the courtyard.

He tried to clear a path for himself amidst the chaos, and soon he found an opening and became a shadow as he huddled against corners and walls, managing to leave the courtyard behind without being noticed.

When he reached the next courtyard, he found himself in front of an even larger battle. The smell of charred flesh wounded his nostrils and he fought the urge to cover his face; there were spells charging the air ahead of him, mages fighting against the horned giants, falling one by one. He wanted to help the mages but knew that if he discovered himself, he would be quickly overpowered by the enemy numbers, so he waited and kept to the shadows, trying to find the one he was looking for, hoping beyond hope her eyes were still full of life.

He first spotted Anders on the far side of the square, fire and ice surging from his fingertips and staff. Sebastian's gaze followed the direction of his spells and found Aveline battling two warriors at the same time. His pulse quickened: if Aveline was here, Hawke must not be far away. The prince began to move but stopped when he watched a lightning storm falling down from the sky over a group of Qunari to his right; he searched the battlefield from the shadows, saw mages trying to defend the city, templars running to them to help them out, and then he found what he was looking for on the other side of the square. There she was, about to get cut in half by a giant axe.

An arrow found its way into his hand before he could even will his arm to move.

Hawke raised her staff to protect herself from the impending slash but something pierced the air above her head and ripped a grunt from the Qunari's throat. She looked up to see an arrow protruding from the giant's left eye, saw him raise his hand, lost, as if trying to understand what had happened, only to crumble to the ground a moment later. She looked back, saw Sebastian running toward her and, in seconds, she covered the distance left between them, finding his arms and his relief flowing to her through his body.

"I thought I had lost you," he whispered against her neck, and she held on tighter, her embrace speaking the words she couldn't seem to dislodge from the back of her throat. But they were forced apart too soon by the last remaining invaders.

When the last Qunari fell, a silence settled over Hightown Square, broken only by the distant sound of voices and metal and fire. Sebastian wandered across the square, hoping to find any survivors, finding none. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, turned in that direction, and saw Hawke as she leaned down to take the hand of an elf mage and help him up.

The prince, recognizing the mage, watched them exchange a few words as he approached them.

"Looks like you fared better than the other mages," he heard Hawke say as he stepped beside her, Anders and Aveline following close behind him.

"The other? Surely, they cannot all be..." the elf's words froze in the air when he looked around him and saw all the corpses of the mages covering the battlefield. He ran over to the closest one with a fleeting hope that he might still be alive, but his knees hit the ground when he realized it was too late. "Gone. I told them to run..." he whispered, pain constricting his voice.

"First Enchanter Orsino. You survive." A strong, commanding female voice reached them and they all turned to look at a group of templars that were being led by the highest ranking templar in Kirkwall.

"Your relief overwhelms me, Knight-Commander," Orsino replied with sarcasm but Hawke barely listened, for her eyes had found a familiar face standing next to Knight-Commander Meredith, and her heart had skipped a beat.

"It figures I'd find you in the middle of this, Sister," Carver said with contempt before Hawke could even open her mouth and the feeling of relief that had filled her turned to dust in her mouth.

"Wherever there's trouble, that's where you'll find me," she replied instead, resorting to the sarcastic tone she knew irritated her brother so much.

"The last time troubled followed you, it found Mother," he said, making Hawke flinch. That was a low blow, even for him. How dare he talk about mother and blame her for it. Her eyes smoldered but Knight-Commander Meredith interrupted their conversation.

"There is no time for talk. The Qunari are gathering everyone in the Keep."

"Why?" Aveline asked, a frown painting her brow.

Sebastian answered her question, "When Qunari invade, they gather all the nobles just like this. Those who convert to the Qun live. Everyone else..."

"Oh..."

"We must strike back, before it's too late," said Meredith.

"And who will lead us into this battle? You?" Orsino demanded.

His voice ignited a flame behind Meredith's eyes and words started flying between them like deadly darts, none willing to bow to the other while their city burned down around them. Their shouts slowly raised above the screams of the dying until Hawke felt they would all drown in a feud that seemed as old as Kirkwall if she didn't do something about it. Her anger exploded and she spoke before she could think twice about what she was going to say. "I won't have you two at each other's throats. I'm in charge."

Sebastian hid a small smile when he heard her speak like that and said, "And I'm right behind you."

Her hand searched for his and gave it a squeeze.

"You? You're not even of this city!" Meredith said, offended by the suggestion.

"Neither am I, yet I don't hear you complaining about us both fighting to defend our home," said Orsino.

The Knight-Commander glared at the mage but comprehended the urgency of the situation. "Very well, then. But whatever you plan, be quick about it."

"This should be interesting," Carver offered, ironic.

Hawke frowned but chose to ignore her brother. "Let's find out what the Qunari are planning, but not risk our necks in the process."

"An excellent choice. Let's move quickly," said Meredith and started to move out, leading the way to the Keep. They all marched behind her and managed to find a place where they could remain hidden from Qunari eyes, the shadows of the large corridors at each side of the main path offering them a respite from where to plan their next move.

Aveline peeked from behind a column and saw a large group of Qunari guarding the Keep's entrance. "I don't see any of my guardsmen."

Meredith frowned, "Then they've already taken it over. Clearly the Qunari have been planning this for some time."

"Either that or we're the pushovers they think we are," Carver remarked but the Knight-Commander ignored him.

"This is the only way. We must assault them now, before their numbers grow."

Orsino frowned, "Are you mad? They have hostages! We need a distraction."

Meredith turned, exasperated, to look at Hawke. "Decide quickly. We have no time."

How do I always end up involved in these situations, Hawke thought, shaking her head. She decided it was at least worth to listen to Orsino's plan and asked him to share his mind.

"We'll need to get you inside and catch up as soon as we can," the first enchanter said and began moving towards the main street leading to the Keep's entrance.

"And just how will we do this?" asked Meredith, following him closely with her eyes.

"Have confidence, Knight-Commander," Orsino replied, a confident smile on his face, and began walking forward, taking his staff from his back, straight to where the band of Qunari were guarding the gates. They watched him run fearlessly to the enemy, a small figure dwarfed by the enormous height of the gray walls around him, and stopped a few feet away from the stairs that led to the Keep.

"You will not conquer this city without a fight!" he shouted at them.

"Saarebas! Vinek kathas!" a Qunari shouted, ordering an attack, but Orsino had already unleashed a ball of flame on them and set on fire at least three of their warriors.

Hawke watched him from the corner where she and her friends had managed to sneak into thanks to Orsino's distraction and saw the first enchanter nod at her before he unleashed a new attack and forced the Qunari to follow him and leave the gate unguarded.

She seized the opportunity and beckoned her party to follow her into the Viscount's Keep. As soon as they were inside, they found themselves surrounded by an unnatural silence. The place was littered with corpses; Hawke approached the closest to the entrance and removed the spear that had killed the man: Qunari. She tossed it to the floor and heard the clang it made when it fell echoing on the empty walls.

They all knew the Qunari must be hiding somewhere within. Sebastian took a couple of steps forward, beyond Hawke, seeing something she couldn't see on the stairs. She heard him whisper, "There are traps at the top of the first flight of stairs." She nodded, acknowledging his remark and made sure the rest of the party had heard him.

"Let's be careful," she said, took a step forward, and her movement unleashed a horde of Qunari on them.

"I'll disarm the traps!" she heard Sebastian shout at her as he disappeared from her sight before she could stop him. But there was no time to think and magic sang through her body, reaching the battle like a swarm of lightning riding the air towards her enemies. She forgot about Sebastian while she took down everything that moved on her path, dodging axes and swords with the grace of a dancer. The moment she stopped, she heard the air behind her crackling and jumped out of the way before the spell unleashed by a saarebas exploded in the place where she had been standing a second ago. But the blast reached her anyway, knocked her off her feet for a moment. A ball of fire engulfed the Qunari mage, giving her time to get out of the way, and she nodded to Anders as a thanks for guarding her back.

And then she felt the absence of her archer and searched for him amongst the chaos. Following what she thought were his battle shouts, she followed the sound of his voice, fighting her way towards the top of the stairs, where a Qunari archer was blocking her view from the upper landing.

Hawke was about to throw a spell at him to catch him off guard when the enemy released the arrow he had been holding in his bow and a nightmarish sound made her heart stop. She ran up the stairs, feeling as if her legs had turned to lead, reaching the top just in time to see the arrow pierce Sebastian's chest, too close to his heart. Fury and despair filled her body until they spilled out of her mouth in a scream that formed his name in the air, as she watched Sebastian's knees give way underneath him.

She tried to run to him but the archer had already turned his attention towards her and stood between them.

"No!" she summoned a tempest of lightning that showered over her enemy but, still, she couldn't reach Sebastian, she couldn't even spot him in the middle of the chaos anymore, for more of the horned giants had made their way to block her path. She shouted and her desperation made Aveline find her and cover her retreat.

Finding a gap that allowed her to move in the direction she needed to go, she hurried, evading swords and spells, and finally found Sebastian's body crumbled at the feet of a sten.

"Get away from him!" she screamed and threw an earth spell at him, the force of her despair so deeply embedded inside her magic that it crushed his skull with the impact.

"Sebastian!" she shouted as she kneeled beside him, but he didn't respond. There was so much blood soaking the carpet under his body...

"Sebastian..." She reached for his hand and gasped, relieved, when she felt a weak squeeze on her fingers.

"I'm so sorry, Hawke. I'm such a fool," he whispered, then started coughing.

"Shh, don't talk, you're going to be fine," she said and wiped the blood that was trekking down the side of his mouth. Hawke tried to heal him but she had consumed all her mana when she had killed the sten and it wasn't regenerating fast enough.

She searched desperately around the chaos for Anders, feeling Sebastian's life spilling out of his body in a pool of blood.

"Hawke..." another whisper, weaker than before, and her eyes snapped back to her beloved's face.

"It's ok. I am going to save you..." she said, tears filling her eyes as she looked down at Sebastian's pale skin.

"Hawke, I... I love you," he said and closed his eyes, his hand limp inside her own.

"No! No, no, no..."

Hawke screamed and screamed Anders's name as the battle died down, until the mage came running, kneeling on Sebastian's other side.

"Help him!" she pleaded.

Anders didn't even think about it; the healer in him was stronger than his resentment and so his magic started flooding in the form of a blue light out of his hands as he worked on the terrible wound that had brought Sebastian down.

"Is he..."

"He's breathing."

They heard Aveline shouting Hawke's name.

"Go, Hawke! You need to stop the Arishok. I'll take care of him," Anders told her, grasping her hand and forcing it away from Sebastian.

Her eyes turned to her friend, so full of desperation and despair that a lump formed in Anders's throat. He didn't want to see her this hurt. Not ever again.

"I will save him," he promised her. "Go."

Something in his eyes convinced her. She nodded, then leaned down to whisper in Sebastian's ear, "Don't you dare die on me. Not now... I love you too..."

She got up and, leaving her heart lying on the floor, left to face the Arishok.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Someone was touching him but he couldn't find himself in the dark. The unbearable pounding of his head and a blackness covering his eyes was all there was. Panic took hold over him as he struggled to feel the rest of his body; a decision he regretted the second sensation flooded back into it and a sharp pain bolted through his chest.

He heard a scream and realized it was his own voice. Other voices weaved with his own but they sounded so far away, muffled. Sebastian tried to find his tongue, to ask words that made no sense to him until a familiar voice pierced the fog and formed itself out of air and vibration and resentment.

"Stop moving, will you?" it said, annoyed.

He obeyed because there was nothing else he could do, except feel the warmth that had started to ease his pain and was spreading slowly from his chest to the rest of his body. He tried to remember what had happened but memories were fuzzy, slipped away every time he tried to focus on them. Still, he kept trying to catch them with an urgency he couldn't comprehend.

The other voices had disappeared and Sebastian was afraid he might be left alone in the darkness forever. Until he found a small flicker of light somewhere deep inside the dark and he moved toward it, held on to it with all his strength. A sudden peace started beating, guiding him toward his heart, where he found the bright face of the Maker's bride, smiling down on him. She extended her hand toward him and touched his face lightly while her own face changed; her golden long hair grew darker and darker, until it was black and short like a raven's feathers framing her pale skin; her eyes became a pair of azure jewels staring at him under dark eyebrows. Even her gentle smile was now hinting at a brush of irreverence hiding in the corner of her mouth.

In that second, everything that had happened came back to him.

"Hawke!" Sebastian shouted as his eyes snapped open.

"Finally!" Anders said, not able to hide completely the relief he felt. "About time you woke up."

The mage's face was hovering above him. Sebastian tried to raise his left arm to grab Anders's shoulder but the pain forced a grunt out of his throat.

"Stop. Don't make me tie your arm to your body with a binding spell. Cause I'll do it gladly."

"Where is she?" Sebastian asked, feeling the place where the arrow had almost stolen his life from him with his hand, too light-headed to attempt to raise his head from the floor.

"She left to face the Arishok and I'm stuck with you, trying to save your pious life."

His heart stopped for a second, then started beating faster.

"We need to get to her, Anders!"

"No, I need to get to her. You need to stay here and rest. You almost died."

"NO! I need to reach her!" Sebastian shouted and struggled to stand up.

"Damn you, you're so bloody stubborn. Alright, but if that wound reopens and you bleed to death it won't be my fault."

"Thank you, Anders. Now help me up, will you?"

Anders glared at him but his urge to reach Hawke was too great to stay there having a discussion with Sebastian. And he had promised her he would save him. So he stayed silent and helped Sebastian up, a groan coming out of the prince's throat.

The mage half-dragged Sebastian across the long hall that lead to the Viscount's Keep throne room, no words coming out of their mouths. The door was open when they reached it; the qunari didn't stop them from entering but they heard the double doors close behind them with a sense of finality that made them nervous.

They could see a circle of qunari fencing the center of the great hall, where a battle seemed to be happening. But neither Sebastian nor Anders could figure out what was going on until a couple of the horned soldiers dragged them to where Aveline and the rest of their friends were standing, along with dozens of Kirkwall's nobles. Surprisingly, Isabela was there too.

Only then could Sebastian see that Hawke was battling the Arishok by herself.

He vaguely heard Varric explaining the moments that had led to this duel, but his gaze was stuck on Hawke; a vile of fear rose to his throat as he watched the Arishok grabbing her by the neck and lifting her off the ground.

She was gasping for air, struggling in vain to free herself from the iron grip of the Arishok. Sebastian could see how weak and battered she was and, for the first time, the real possibility of losing her settled like the touch of a cold metal in his heart. He envisioned his life without her and a fierce determination flooded through him. Sebastian reached behind him to grab his bow but the pain made him wince before he could even move more than an inch.

"Settle down. We cannot help her..." Anders said, eyeing one of the qunari who was fencing the duel, his voice mirroring the impotence and rage he was feeling. Sebastian knew the mage was right and so he did the only thing he could. He prayed.

Please, Andraste, keep her alive...

Hawke embedded her fingers on the Arishok's arms and, tapping on the pool of mana she had left in her body, channeled a storm of lightning directly into her huge opponent. She fell to the floor as he screamed in pain and rage and she tried to scramble away from him, trying to catch her breath as she retreated as far as possible. But she didn't stop to rest, she couldn't, so she got up, dizzy, and ran.

The room was slowly spinning around her, exhaustion replacing energy as it left her body through sweat and blood. The Arishok seemed unbeatable, relentless, and he was walking toward her, dragging his ax behind him. She could scarcely feel the mana that flowed through her veins, but there was another song reaching her ears, faint, alien but familiar at the same time, and her gaze drifted from the giant to the open wound that his ax had left in her left arm; there it was, her blood dripping out from under her skin, suddenly shining with a red haze that beat along with her heart, a melody that promised immense power if only she dared tap into it. And, suddenly, she was afraid, not of her enemy, but of herself. Hawke doubted, knowing what it meant to give in, knowing once she chose that road, there was no coming back; a deeper instinct made her unlock her eyes away from her wound and look for her friends.

She found Sebastian among the multitude staring back at her with fear. He was alive! The light in his eyes scattered the temptation of blood magic from her heart like a torch making the shadows flee.

She rolled away just in time to escape the Arishok's fury and hit him on the back of the knee with her staff, forcing him to stumble, giving herself time to put some space between them. She ran, limping, to the other side of the room, and, using her last reserves of energy, began to summon the last spell she had left in her. She concentrated, keeping her eyes on him as he approached her, weakened too by the battle that seemed to have been going on for ages. She knew he had no more healing potions left, and so she waited until the very last second to unleash a ball of fire on the Arishok. An enraged scream stormed savagely from his mouth as he was set on fire, and Hawke seized the opportunity of his crazed pain to stab him through the heart with the edge of her staff.

The Arishok fell to his knees, and then to the floor, as life left his eyes forever.

Hawke leaned on her staff, panting; it was all she could do not to collapse. A loud cheering erupted all around her, her own name riding the wave of grateful voices and applauds. She raised her eyes and found familiar and unfamiliar faces surrounding her, pouring out relief and joy from their eyes and lips. She couldn't help but smile back at them despite her exhaustion, her smile widening when her friends made their way through the crowd to reach her. Her gaze caught Isabela's, but only for a second; she was standing behind the others, fidgeting as she looked back at Hawke. A moment later, Hawke found herself inside Sebastian's one-armed embrace; both careful not to further hurt the other's battered body, both speechless when they looked into each other's eyes and recognized the emotion living in there.

A commotion at the doors interrupted them and Hawke turned around in time to see Meredith running into the Throne Room, branding her sword as if she was ready to slice the Arishok himself with it. She stopped abruptly when she absorbed the scenery in front of her.

"Is it over?" the Knight-Commander asked as the rest of the templars followed her into the room, along with First Enchanter Orsino.

Hawke nodded, "It's over."

A clamor raised above the crowd: "The city has been saved!", followed by more cheerful celebration and voices shouting Hawke's name. Meredith stared at the crowd and frowned. She grudgingly put her sword away behind her back and said, "It appears Kirkwall has a new champion."

Hawke straightened her back and allowed herself to smile at Meredith's words. Her the champion of Kirkwall? She liked the sound of that.

* * *

><p>Anders closed the door behind him, making sure he didn't make a noise. He found Hawke sitting outside, waiting, and sat down next to her, enjoying a moment of rest.<p>

"How is he?" she asked, every word full of concern. After the Knight-Commander had taken charge of the situation and had dismissed Hawke and the others, Sebastian had almost collapsed from his wound. They had carried him to Hawke's estate; she had decided to put Sebastian in one of her guest rooms so she could be closer to him as he healed.

"He's sleeping."

"What happened?"

"I'm guessing the adrenaline kept him going. He should have rested, but he insisted to get up and reach you. It seemed almost as if something had given him strength..." he looked at Hawke and then at his hands. "Anyway, with the adrenaline gone..." he shrugged.

"Will he be alright?"

"Yes, he'll be alright," he said and watched a sigh escape her lips as they parted, erasing the line that had been on her brow. He added, "But enough about him, it's your turn now."

"I'm fine," she replied, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

"And I'm Andraste's knickers. Come on, let me take a look, Hawke," he said as he leaned towards her.

"Fine."

Hawke watched his hands as he worked through the worst of her wounds, even though she had gone through them herself earlier while Anders tended to Sebastian. The truth was she could use his help, as she was too battered and tired to heal herself fully. Mostly, she needed a good sleep but that would have to wait.

When he had done what he could, Anders leaned back, and, letting out a long breath, closed his eyes and relaxed. He was exhausted.

"Thank you..."

Hawke's whisper made him open his eyes. He was about to smile at her when she added, "Thank you for saving his life." This time she was looking directly at him.

He frowned. "I did it for you."

"I know."

The frown remained on his brow as he struggled to ask the words that had been burning in his heart for months.

"Why him?" he finally said, letting the rest of the question imply: why him and not me.

She lowered her eyes and stared at the axe wound on her left arm, remembering that moment when the temptation had almost doomed her and everything she loved and believed in. If it hadn't been for Sebastian...

"I used to ask myself the same question all the time. Why him? The one who seemed to be the opposite of who I was."

"Used to?"

"Yes. Used to."

"Not anymore?"

"No."

He paused. Then, "Why not?"

She looked into his eyes again. "Because I don't care why anymore. It just is. I cannot change that fact that I love him."

Anders doubled over himself as if Hawke had just punched him in the gut.

"But he is so..." he said with a grimace that made the frown travel to Hawke's face.

"So what?"

"So righteous. So full of himself."

She chuckled, amused by Anders's expression. "I don't know... Sometimes I think he is happier than you and I, Anders. And he—"

Anders's snort cut her short. "Please. He is blind, that's what he is. Ignorance is bliss, don't they say that? Blindly following the words of oppressors."

Hawke shook her head. She had been about to tell him that Sebastian had saved her back at the duel with the Arishok. But she now felt that Justice had invaded their conversation. "I don't think you are right on this one. I think he has found something we haven't; some truth that connects him to some light we haven't found yet, that makes him be at peace most of the time."

Anders stared at Hawke, unbelief pouring out of his expression. "You are talking about the man who embarked on a quest of revenge after his family was murdered? I don't see a lot of peace there."

The frown returned to Hawke's forehead. "He did what he thought was right at that time."

"Don't we all?" Anders's brown eyes locked into Hawke's.

She stared at him and answered after some time. "It's not the same..."

Anders's nostrils flared. "How is it not the same?"

"He has doubts in his heart. He wanted to walk away from it all when he realized the price he would pay might be too high. Too many lives would be lost."

"So? That only means he has no backbone! A coward who is not willing to do whatever it takes to have justice be done!"

A strange fear nestled in the pit of her stomach when he heard his words. Or Justice's words. Somehow, she knew they were no longer talking about Sebastian.

"Whatever it takes? No matter what?" she asked softly, scared to know the answer.

"Of course!" He was too angry to think.

"Even if it meant to hurt the people you love?" she insisted and waited.

Anders hesitated and looked at Hawke, at her soft skin and sad blue eyes. Could he? Would he? "Sometimes, there is only one way to change the world..." he whispered, looking away. He couldn't face her gaze.

Hawke lowered her head, a sadness she could not face creeping over her heart. So she stood up without a word and walked away from him.

"Hawke, wait!"

"I need to check up on him..." she said, opening the door to Sebastian's room and not turning back.


End file.
